#And the lab they were born in just didn’t really have that

[ask-the-colony-tree-siblings]

to rivulet since they dont get asked enough

What are some of your favorite moments?

(The text isn’t on the drawings cause I wanted them to be pretty lol)

Rivulet: My favourite moments?

Rivulet: the first time I saw the sky. It was sunset, and the colours of the sky looked like me! One side was pink and orange and yellow, and one side was blue! It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. And I could see forever! There was so much space! And I could feel the wind, and it was warm, but cold at the same time, I’d never seen anything like it before.

Rivulet: And the first time I swam in open water. I felt like that’s where I was meant to be. The water was cold, but it felt like it was hugging me. The way I could just glide through it, the water rushing over my back, the sunbeams on my face… I felt free. I felt like I belonged somewhere.

[greenglowinspooks]

Honestly I think the fics where Danny’s a Kryptonian have a lot of potential, so here’s me throwing my hat into the ring

Danny was born a human. He was born to two loving (though slightly neglectful) human parents in the painfully mundane state of Illinois.

Then, he died, but he didn’t do it right. He became a Halfa; too alive to be a ghost, but too dead to be human.

Then, through strange, uncontrollable circumstances, that changed as well.

He had been heavily injured, missing a large percentage of body mass, and was at the cusp of either dying fully or just fading from existence.

(Perhaps it was an ordinary fight. Perhaps it was the GiW, or his parents. Perhaps it was a simple accident. That didn’t matter now.)

He fled, phasing through the ground, trying to bury himself as deep as possible.

(Perhaps he didn’t want to be unmasked in death. Perhaps that was already too late, and he just wanted his body be able to rest in peace.)

Unfortunately for him, he was in Metropolis, and ended up in a secret genetics lab below the earth.

Danny detransformed, completely exhausted, falling onto a table covered in different labeled specimen containers. He closed his eyes, and prepared himself for what would happen next.

And… nothing.

Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes.

Danny sat up, brushing off the foul-smelling liquid from the specimen jars, petri dishes, and assorted vials.

He felt…fine.

No, better than fine. He felt normal. Healthy.

He felt like he wasn’t missing most of his internal organs anymore.

Danny looked down at his stomach, and saw that the wounds that were killing him had completely disappeared.

(The blood blossoms, if there had been any, were still there, but they no longer hurt. At most, they itched a little, or maybe just tickled a bit.)

He wanted to question what in the hell had just happened, but he didn’t want to jinx it. He just quietly changed back to Phantom, going invisible and phasing out of wherever he had found himself in, ignoring the loud alarm system that had begun to blare when he broke the samples on that table.

Life mostly went back to normal after that.

If, like Danny, you ignored all the physical changes in a valiant effort to remain in denial that something was horribly wrong.

His skin was tougher, now; he didn’t get scrapes or cuts, even when he accidentally fumbled a knife while trying to cook. His ghost form was stronger, too; he was barely knocked down by his old rogues anymore.

He could fly, even in his human form. Though, admittedly, the flight was much different. It was like using a muscle he hadn’t known existed beforehand. He didn’t just ignore gravity or wind resistance, though he felt more graceful in the air now than he ever did as Phantom.

There were more powers popping up, lasers and cold breath, x-ray vision and super strength. His lungs and heart were larger, and he could handle temperatures much easier. He didn’t have to transform to handle the pressure and cold of space anymore.

His reaction time had improved, becoming much faster than ever before. His senses were much stronger, and he had even seemed to gain a sense of electric fields, like a shark.

The only thing that separated him from a Kryptonian was that he had developed electrokenesis, which he had never seen any of them use on TV.

So, surely, he was fine.

Everything was normal, he hadn’t been transformed by alien DNA in a sketchy lab, he had just had a really weird and specific metagene activation.

—

Clark Kent, Kal-El, was panicking.

It had been around a month and a half since a particularly brutal fight between Intergang and an unknown assailant, and it seemed that Intergang was determined to draw out whoever had scorned them.

Their method of doing this, of course, was trying to level the city.

He and Jon were doing their best to stop them, but with both Kon and Zor-El away on their own business, it was difficult.

And by difficult, he meant almost impossible.

Slowly but surely he was driving them back, but not without massive amounts of damage to the city, especially with only Jon on dedicated rescuing duty.

He was distracted, trying to draw a group away from a heavily occupied building, when a projectile hit him in the back of the head.

The world spun for a moment, and then it went black.

(It was, probably, then, some sort of Kryptonite-metal alloy. Intergang at its finest.)

He woke slowly, forcing his eyes open. He felt like he had been hit by an eighteen wheeler.

Clark jolted up, preparing for the worst.

To his shock, though, the city hadn’t been reduced to rubble while he was out.

Jon seemed to still be working on evacuation, either unaware that he had went down or forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

Then, a lightning-quick figure flew into view, and Clark’s mind went blank.

He thought, for a moment, that Kara was back. But, no, that wasn’t right, she was supposed to be off-planet for another week or so.

Besides, this new figure didn’t move like her. They were lankier and more slender, and they flew quicker than any member of his family.

Their powerset was different, too; they focused mainly on using blasts of ice and electricity to drive enemies back, only occasionally using their strength or lasers—ones which came from their hands instead of their eyes.

He had woken up at the tail end of the fight, it seemed. The remaining Intergang members were fleeing from the mysterious metahuman.

They stayed in the sky, motionless, watching them leave.

As if they could sense him staring, they turned.

They were small, still clearly young. Probably around Kon’s age, or maybe even younger.

Instead of the colorful clothing he had inherited from his family, the stranger wore black and white clothes which looked similar to a hazmat suit, their face covered by some sort of gas mask.

Interestingly enough, instead of the S-shape crest that he was so used to seeing, the stranger wore the letter D on his chest.

Kal’s heart sped up.

From up in the sky, he heard the stranger’s heart, on the left instead of the right, speed up in return.

But before he could say a word to them, they sped off, disappearing into the deep blue sky.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Family? Assemble!

Reporter: Gotham News, and we have a new supervillain on the line. Mr Phantom, what are your demands at the moment? Phantom with lack of sleep and with tears: I..I want a titanium model of a spaceship! And to get a good night’s sleep and to go to the local school…and some fudge and.. Reporter: Oh, my bad. Just one question for clarification, are you by any chance an orphan or are your parents villains? Phantom: I prefer the term mad scientists Reporter: Okay. So, Gotham news! And with me on the line is the new potential child of Wayne or Batman. Want to know how two serial adopters will share a child leading a double life? Stay with us and find out. Now let's check in with Jessie for our weather report. Phantom: Wait, what?

~~~~~

Danny spends the night running from the Red Hood with a bag of fudge, Red Robin with a pot of coffee, Batman with the adoption papers and, for some reason, Brucie Wayne with an idea of internship at a space station. Ha! The Justice League will never let a ghost into orbit. Not that Wayne can blackmail superheroes or smth. Danny: Fuck you all! I’m done with vigilante activity, I’m not your competitor! What do you want from me? And I’m done with crazy billionaires too. I swear, I’d rather be adopted by a local mob boss just to piss you off! ~Later~ Danny *sees peering out of the corner Matches Malone*: Are you kidding me?! Robbie *jumps off the roof and lands right behind Danny*: Stop running, lil brother, No one’s left the family yet. Minnie: What about Neal? Robbie *shakes a knife with a bow on the handle negatively*: He’s on sabbatical, that doesn’t count. Anyway, it’s a gift for you, cub. Danny: Um, thank you, but my lab scalpels are definitely sterile, and your blade was in who knows who before you brought it here. Robbie: It’s brand-new! And Archie decorated it with a ghost on the handle. Look! It's cute! With a smile and… Dick: Hands up! You’re under arrest for trying to steal our new member! Minnie: Why is he yours, damn cop? Selina: Boys, don’t fight. He’s mine. Schrodinger’s cat is still a kitten. Killer Croc: No way, my niece is staying with me. Danny: Uncle Waylon? Long time no see. Ra's: My grandson needs steady access to ectoplasm. Danyal, come with me. Danny: Over my dead body! Oh shiii…I mean no. Anyway, don’t you think the alley’s getting a little crowded?

~~~~

Killer Croc: Is he still mad at me? RR: Danny doesn’t talk to uncles who tried to eat his beloved brother Red Robin. Killer Croc: He wasn’t even your brother then. What do you want? An apology from me? RR: That would be nice.

~~~~

Danny: I didn’t think the GIW agents would really fear the reputation of Gotham and not follow me. What a relief! Jason *quickly throws the knife into the sink*: Wow, you got lucky. Alfred: Master Jones, why don’t you eat your steak? I thought last week you were complaining to Batman that 'cause of him you got not many prey. Croc *pulls a piece of white robe from the teeth*: Well, now there is a lot of it. Bruce *gives Jason and Croc the side-eye*.

~~~~

Ra's: You do realize that Malone, Wayne and Batman are the same person, right? Boy, you were born into a family of geniuses, don’t disappoint Grandpa. Danny: Triple pocket money, triple gifts for the holidays, the opportunity to complain about the same family member three times. No, Grandpa, I definitely don’t understand. Ra's: Smart little weasel.

~~~~

Selina: Okay. Purely theoretical. Do you like to steal? Danny: I wouldn’t say that. But somehow I stole the sword from the fright knight. And also stole few jewels but then I was under the mind control. I returned them. Well, the crown and ring of the king of the ghost zone I also took without permission. Oh, and the answers to the test once. And I’m really sorry about the last one. Neal: I feel the story behind it but I prefer to know nothing about it.

[goodlucktai]

9, raph and leo?

dialogue prompts

9. “I know, I know it hurts.”

x

When Raph was eight years old, the twins decided they needed their own bedrooms and, like with all other things they had ever decided, they made it everyone else’s problem. As a united front, the two of them had the capacity to wear down a squad of Navy Seals in a manner of days, let alone one overtired single father. 

The campaign for separate bedrooms turned out to be a long con. Donnie had been denied an evil science laboratory by Splinter multiple times, on the grounds of it being dangerous, and Donnie being seven, and evil being bad. But a room of his own could be whatever he wanted, and he wanted a lab. 

It took most of a week for Splinter to discover that the twins were still doubled up in the room that was ostensibly Leo’s while Donnie’s was being used for nefarious purposes, but by then Donnie had installed an electronic lock on the door that he built out of components gutted from old kitchen appliances and was fully ready to die on that hill. 

While Pops and Donnie were locked in a contest of wills that would ultimately go in Donnie’s favor (because Splinter’s achilles heel back then—and even now—was that he thought little turtles at their most sulky and unreasonable were just adorable) Raphie had looked at Leo with a confused frown on his face. 

“How come you went along with it, Lee? You didn’t even get your own room.”

Leo shrugged, bright gold eyes shining with interest as he watched his twin and his father argue back and forth. He was following it carefully, probably ready to join in if it looked like Donnie was going to lose—more engaged than he ever was playing video games or flipping through comics. 

At the time, all Leo said was, “Just wanted to see if I could.”

Raph thought it was because he was a troublemaker, and he maintained that idea up until Mikey—intuitive beyond his years, even as a sweet little six year old—said he figured it was just that Leo’s head went as crazy fast as Donnie’s did, only in ways that didn’t involve breaking and building things. 

A full decade later, Raph knows Mikey was right on the money. Looking back, he sees a kid who was wickedly smart and terribly understimulated. Leo didn’t create trouble for the heck of it, he just liked having problems to solve. He wanted conversations and tricks and puzzles, he needed hoops to jump through like dolphins did on TV, or else he’d get cranky and sneaky. 

Their world became a much simpler, more peaceful place once Leo got his first phone and discovered an online chess app with a leaderboard. 

All this to say, Leo has had a mind for strategy since before he could talk in full sentences. He’s a natural-born leader, and after the failed Krang invasion, he really stepped up and took it seriously. Raph is so proud of him he doesn’t have words big enough to contain the size and shape of it all. It isn’t as hard as he had imagined it would be to let go of the reins and give Leo the room he needs to shine. 

Some days are better than others. For the most part, Leo says jump and his brothers don’t even ask how high, they just shoot for the rafters. Their teamwork is cohesive, as solid as it was when they initially realized their ninpo, and Raph thinks he’d feel sorry for the Shredder if that guy showed his face in their town again. 

But there are also days like today, when Leo says something that Raph’s big brother meter pings as Leo being silly, stirring shit up for lack of better thing to do, and he doesn’t linger on it past that initial knee-jerk impression. 

They’re working with a group of mutants out of Hell’s Kitchen, mutants who are walking the line between vigilantism and outright crime. They’re rough around the edges, but good-natured for the most part. The turtles kept bumping into that other group as they crisscrossed around the city until finally their leader, Old Hob, said, “Why don’t we just get on the same program instead of stepping on each other’s heels?” and a tentative partnership was formed. 

It’s been a week since then, and in that time Raph and his brothers have been firmly adopted by the grown-up mutants, who ask pointed questions about what time they went to bed the night before and whether or not they had a decent breakfast and how their online classes are going. 

“This must be what having overbearing aunties is like,” Donnie said to April on the phone none-too-quietly, and Sally, feline mutant and aforementioned overbearing auntie, knocked her knuckles on his battleshell reprovingly. But that about summed it up. 

There was one spanner in the works, and that was Liam.  

——

“Anyone else getting bad vibes from that guy by the way?” Leo says one day. 

There’s something performative about it, his usual pomp and charisma with a plastic edge. Mikey tilts his head like a service dog who just caught the scent of a potential medical emergency. Donnie looks up from his phone, eyes keen the way they only are when he and his twin are about to communicate with the telepathy they’ll deny they have.

But Raph is having a bad pain day, and his well of patience for shenanigans is much shallower than it normally is. 

“Leon, don’t start,” he says, rubbing the slider’s head playfully to take any sting out of the dismissal. “If I have to put up with any middle child nonsense today I’m gonna scream.”

There’s a beat, his second-youngest brother visibly hesitating on a mental fork in the road. He’s gotten so good about being forthcoming but his first impulse is still to play along, deny, conceal-don’t-feel. He still has this idea in his head of what a good leader is supposed to be, and he’s still willing to whittle parts of himself away that don’t fit that mold. 

To his credit, Leo tries again. “I don’t like him,” he says with less certainty. 

“You don’t have to be best friends with the guy,” Raph replies. There’s enough warning in his tone that Leo knows to drop it. “Just get along until we go home.”

He works his shoulder, trying to do something about the solid ache it’s become, and Leo’s eyes drop to the mass of scarring there and then flit away. He starts to outline the route their patrol is going to take, reaching into his belt bag for the jar of Tiger Balm he’s taken to carrying with him and handing it over to Raph as he talks. 

Raph smiles, the warmth in his chest ballooning up to swallow the impending impatience and annoyance brought out by pain. That warmth stays with him through their whole run, even as Donnie video-calls April and deadpans “POV you’re tailing some guy who didn’t get the memo that armed robbery is cringe as hell,” even as Mikey goes out of his way to jump and tumble off a fire escape in time to give Mondo a high-five as he skates by in the opposite direction, even as Leo progressively gets quieter the closer they get to their two AM check-in at the Mutanimals’ railyard base.

Looking back, Raph can count all the red flags he missed and hates himself a little more for each one. Leo sometimes causes problems for fun, and he likes to see what trouble he can get away with or get himself out of, and he is a downright menace to society when he’s bored—but he’s good. He’s sweet, and charming, and wants to help. He wouldn’t have raised an issue with the other group of mutants, potentially cutting ties with useful allies, unless he had a decent reason to. 

And that reason, Raph discovers that night—after information has been exchanged and all that's left is to hang out at the base watching TV and playing table tennis until Splinter inevitably texts to remind his sons of their curfew—is Liam. 

He doubles back into the meeting room where he left his phone and sees the goose mutant has put himself between Leo and the only exit, head lowered on a serpentine neck, beak open to show a flash of sharp teeth in a display that Raph’s animal hindbrain reads clearly as threat. 

His grip on the doorframe causes it to crack. 

“Leo,” he says in a voice he doesn’t recognize. 

His little brother’s head jerks up, half-hopeful, half-disbelieving. Later, Raph will hate himself for putting even a sliver of doubt in Leo’s mind, for unknowingly invalidating his feelings. Leo should never be surprised that his big brother showed up for him. He should never have been left to fend for himself in a situation that made him uncomfortable, especially after he found the courage to be upfront about it. 

“C’mere,” Raph says, lifting an arm—a little turtle’s cue to tuck themselves safely against Raph’s side. 

Whatever his expression is doing, it’s caused dead silence to blanket the room like a foot of packed snow. Liam looks markedly unhappy to see Raphael standing there, but Leo runs to meet him. 

A strategist, a faceman, a leader, and barely seventeen years old. 

“We were just talking,” Liam says with a lightness that rings as false. 

“Next time I find out you and my brother were just talking, I’ll wring your skinny neck,” Raph replies, matching his tone. Liam may be twice Raph’s age, but he’s half Raph’s size, and Raph has gone head-to-head with the Krang general and the Shredder and walked it off each time. Raph is fully prepared, in this moment, to murder this fucking goose. 

Leo taps on Raph’s carapace, just as one of his violent inner voices is lifting its head in the back of his brain and considering making an appearance. On Leo’s end, a warning that someone else is coming from down the hall. On Raph’s end, a reminder that his first priority is the one he’s holding. 

He turns, keeping Leo beside him, in time to see Hob appear around the corner. The cat mutant stops dead in his tracks, slitted eyes moving from Raph, down to Leo, to the doorway beside them, and back again.  

“Problem?”

“We’re going home,” Raph says, a rumble in his voice he wouldn’t know how to temper even if he wanted to. “And we’re not coming back. Don’t call us unless someone’s dying or there’s another alien invasion.”

“Knock on wood,” Leo mumbles near-silently. 

Old Hob doesn’t answer right away. It’s impossible to tell what the older mutant is thinking on a good day, outwardly recalcitrant and unfriendly, even though he has never snapped at Mikey’s cheerful rambling or Leo’s wheedling attempts to goad him into yet another chess match or even Donnie’s accidental ninpo-related shortage of every appliance in the Mutanimals’ kitchen. He and Sally and Ray and Herman all go out of their way to make their base comfortable and accessible to the turtles and Mondo and Pete, like it really matters to them that the younger mutants have a safe place tucked away that they can fall back on. 

And Raph had appreciated that, up until now. Up until they proved it wasn’t safe, actually. Up until he’d seen a grown man leering meanly at his baby brother, just because he thought he could keep getting away with it.

When Hob does speak, all he says is, “Get home safe, boys.”

Raph shoulders around him, and collects Donnie and Mikey from the main room immediately. Mikey says, “Woah, are you guys okay?” and Donnie shoots a poisonous look behind them, like if he glares hard enough he can see back in time to what happened to put those expressions on Leo and Raph’s faces. 

“We’re peachy, Miguelito,” Leo says, disquietingly convincing. “Just had a difference of opinion with our hosts is all.” 

“Stay out of Hell’s Kitchen from now on until I say so,” Raph adds sternly. 

Raph tells dad about Liam when they get home, because there is no universe where that doesn’t happen, and Leo immediately gets hauled into Splinter’s room for what sounds like a very serious conversation. Raph, Donnie and Mikey cluster shamelessly outside the door to eavesdrop, and some frightened thing in Raph’s heart lets out the breath it’s been holding when Leo says, “Nothing happened, papa, I promise. He was just weird.”

“Let him be weird to my Baby Blue one more time and I will show him exactly why your father was the undisputed Battle Nexus champion,” Splinter says. He cups Leo’s face and rubs his thumb over a striped cheek, as if he’d like to keep his son right there where no one had the capacity to hurt him. “Thank you for telling us. I’m so proud of you. I will actually kill him if he looks at you again.”

Leonardo smiles brightly, daddy’s boy of the family and glutton for attention that he is, those leftover dregs of anxiety in his eyes finally melting away. 

“I think we should let dad kill him,” Donnie announces, eyes icy, tone flat. 

“Nah,” Mikey says, disingenuously cheerful. “Next time we run into Liam I’m setting him the fuck on fire!” 

“Language,” Raph scolds by rote, but his heart isn’t in it. 

He can’t get that scene he walked in on back at the railyard out of his head. He can’t help thinking what if something worse had happened because I didn’t listen? 

It feels like there’s a ghost in his chest, rattling his heart. He’s haunted by the what if. 

——

After dinner, Leo looks at Raph meaningfully and points at the infirmary. Doctor Leo’s orders supersede all others, 100% of the time, so Raphael sighs and surrenders his controller to Mikey’s grabby hands without bothering to make the token argument. He keeps driving Princess Peach off the track anyway. 

“Have you been stretching?” Leo says, feeling along Raph’s upper arm, where the muscles are visibly knotted. Even his careful touch hurts—that whole side of his body is tender with pain. Raph can’t help but flinch when his shoulder spasms and Leo hisses. “Shit, sorry, I know, I know it hurts. God, Raphie, you gotta say something before it gets this bad. I’m not afraid to bench you, big guy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Raph says, amused by his little brother’s no-nonsense tone, warmed by the care Leo always takes with his family when they’re sitting in his infirmary and putting their hurts in his hands. 

There’s nothing performative about him here. It’s just Leo, stripped of every false layer. 

“Let’s try to massage it out,” Leo says, all his attention bent to the task. “Then we’ll apply heat.” 

Raph hums, watching him work. His arm radiates pain, and he has to grit his teeth as Leo goes to work on the knots and the ache flares close to unbearable and wanes to a dull throb and then flares again. 

“Hey,” Raph says before he can overthink it any more. “What would you have done if I didn’t see you and Liam?”

Leo pauses, but only for a split-second. He’s as good as cornered here, because there’s no way he’ll leave Raph when he’s in pain, and there’s nowhere to hide. Thankfully for Raph’s sanity, he doesn’t try to pretend he doesn’t know what they’re talking about, even if he takes a long moment to finally answer. 

“Would’ve made Angie make me a Portal Promise to never be alone with him,” Leo admits. Flushing slightly, he mumbles, “It’s, uh, a thing we do—we both make portals, you know, so—it just means we have to keep that promise no matter what happens or what rules we have to break, and we won’t get in trouble later as long as we’re honest.” 

Raph’s heart hurts. His little brothers are so sweet, and people exist in the world who would hurt them, and he has no idea how to reconcile that. He hates that both things could be true at the same time. 

“Tello doesn’t need to be encouraged to stay away from people, and I’m pretty sure he can read my mind? But I would’ve told him anyway,” Leo goes on. “I tell him everything. I’d try to word it so he didn’t get angry enough to do something drastic, like, cut the brake lines on Liam’s Toyota Corolla. And I’d have to make it sound like you and I were on the same page, otherwise he’d go to you about it, and you’d—uh, be annoyed that I didn’t drop it, I guess.”

Getting impaled by the Krang hurt less than this, Raph thinks. He feels sick. 

“Leo—”

“I know,” Leo says quickly, a little too loud. “I know that I don’t always take stuff seriously. It’s not your fault for thinking—you know. You didn’t do anything wrong, Raphie. I just gotta grow up.”

This kid, who—like the rest of them—has already matured well past his age, well before he should have had to. Who’s terrified of letting his family down, who has so much he thinks he needs to live up to. Any perceived failure weighs on him like the death penalty, and Raph knows he had a hand in that. 

He needs to listen. Even when he’s aching and short-tempered. Even when Leo is talking around something that scares him. Maybe especially then. 

“Can we make a deal?” Raph says, reaching up to hold Leo’s hands still under one of his own. Leo is staring hard at Raph’s plastron and doesn’t seem willing to lift his eyes for love or money, but he jerks his head in a nod. “Next time I’m not hearing you, and it’s something serious like today was serious, tell me, and I’ll stop.”

Leo’s mouth twists a bit. If it were for anyone else’s sake, he’d get in Raph’s face and make himself heard no problemo, but it’s an entirely different story when it’s his own safety in question. That part of Leo that wants to always rely on his brothers is constantly at war with the part that believes he’s not supposed to need anyone’s help anymore. 

It would be impossible for him to plant himself like a tree and refuse to be budged and demand Raph’s attention if he thought for one second that it would make Raph angry at him. 

“What if we came up with a code word?” Raph offers, squeezing Leo’s hands. “If I’m being a stubborn punk, you can tell me the code word, and I’ll listen, and I won’t get mad. Even if it turns out to be a mistake or a misunderstanding. Okay?”

He finally gets a peek of gold as Leo dares to make eye contact. He looks embarrassed, like they’ve made a huge deal out of this for no good reason, and hiding inside his shell until everyone promises to pretend like nothing happened is looking more tempting by the second. 

But he’s Leo, their fearless leader. He stared down that portal into the prison dimension without flinching. If he can do that, he can do anything. 

“What word?” he finally says. 

“You pick,” Raph tells him. 

A smile creeps onto Leo’s face, picking its way carefully across shaky ground. 

“‘Goose’,” he suggests.

"‘Goose’ it is," Raph replies firmly, committing it to memory.

He lifts his good arm and drags his little brother into a solid hug, ignoring the twinge in his back and side. Leonardo scrambles to return the embrace, shoving his face against Raph’s unscarred shoulder and clinging for all he’s worth. Which is a lot. He’s worth so much. 

Later, when Raph’s got the electric heating pad on his arm and he and Leo are watching TikTok compilations to pass the time, Mikey comes through the infirmary door at top speed, waving his phone above his head like a maniac. 

“Look what Mondo sent me!” he shouts at full volume. “I put it in the group chat!”

The video shared in the Mad Dogz chat shows Liam being kicked out of the railyard, his bags tossed into the road. Sally is going off at him at the top of her lungs, and Hob is standing by with his arms folded like he’s fully ready to let her maul the guy, and the rest of the grown-up mutants are making it pretty clear with their body language that the goose isn’t welcome anymore. 

“Dunno what they saw on the security cam, but they effin’ hated it,” Mondo says in the recording, unbothered by the absolute chaos unfolding in front of him. “Good riddance, Liam sucks. Oh, Mikester, Hob wants to know if you guys’ll be back in the Kitchen for Herman’s D&D oneshot on Saturday so he knows how much food to order. He said you should bring your dad around this time—as if we need another boring old man in the group, ugh. Anyway, let me know and I’ll pass it along, dude!”

A weight Raph hadn’t even realized he was still carrying melts off his shoulders. Leo huffs under his breath, a disbelieving little laugh. 

“Can we go, Raphie?” Mikey asks with wide eyes. “Don worked so hard on all our character sheets. He even 3D-printed custom figurines.”

“My bard is going to carry this team,” Donnie says loudly from the next room, because he’s never met a private conversation he wouldn’t shamelessly listen in on. 

It’s so important to the Mutanimals that their young friends feel safe with them, and here’s proof of that in Mikey’s hands. Raph doesn’t fully understand why they care, but he’s grateful that they do. It didn’t hit him until now how much it hurt to have the railyard taken away—and how relieved he is that they can go back, after all. 

He squeezes the arm he still has around Leo’s shoulders, prompting his brother to look up at him. 

“What do you say, Fearless?” he says warmly. “Your call.”

Raph’s listening this time. 

[mvrkieboo]

Old Bloodhounds

P46 | he's going to pay

You stared at the city mortuary. Gangnam in the daytime is poppy and bright, lined with riches and luxury. Gangnam at night, however, was when the devils came out to play. Gangnam nightlife is erratic and explosive, deadly and fraught with danger , the morgue was never empty because of it. Fatal overdose, beaten to death, unknown corpses, and mangled bodies. You were still desensitised to it, to your misery.

The fact that you could look at it head on without getting nauseous was a testament that you were never really meant for a life beyond Yoonsu, right?

“Kid. It’s been a while. You promised to stop smoking, remember?” Detective Do’s—Kyungsoo—voice reached your ears, making you lower your cigarette.

“I’m just going through some shit right now.” You had kept that promise, but with Yoonsu back into your life and your loved ones moving on without you, you couldn’t resist it.

Kyungsoo’s partner, Detective Lee Taeyong, tilted his head at your language.

Kyungsoo let out a huff at you, a ghost of a smile hanging on the corner of his lips. To him, you haven’t changed at all. Still rough around the edges, the same girl he had met in that godforsaken stripper joint years ago. Your gaunt face had always haunted him, in a way it’s slightly disappointing you’re still so…jaded.

“This is Detective Lee Taeyong, he’s been my partner for a year now. Still a rookie.” As if on cue, Taeyong stretched out his hand, and you shook it halfheartedly.

“Let’s get inside. I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Kyungsoo gave your shoulder a squeeze, and you nodded rather stiffly.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

“That’s him. It’s Cha Yoonsu.”

Maybe you got too arrogant. Maybe you weren’t so desensitised anymore. That would explain the bile rising in your throat at the sight of this impostor, innocent, who’s wearing Yoonsu’s face. Your chest rose up and down rather violently, making it clear you were in distress. Kyungsoo didn’t have the chance to get a grip on you before you suddenly broke out of the lab, running all the way to the front desk and almost exiting the building altogether before Kyungsoo caught up to you.

He barked out for Taeyong to buy a bottle of water from the vending machine, guiding you to sit on the waiting chairs. He knew you preferred somewhere with more privacy, but considering the only other people at the front desk area was the receptionist, it was adequate enough. When Taeyong came back with the water, he was decent enough to offer you a piece of tissue. You took it to wipe away the few stray tears that escaped your eyes.

Kyungsoo who was sitting beside you—his knees digging into your thighs—kept his hand on your shoulder constantly.

“I thought you’d laugh and cuss at the corpse, but I guess I didn’t know you as well as I thought. He’s dead now kid, he won’t hurt you anymore.”

No, if you were still who you were as a teenager, you’d do just that. If it had been the you from just a few weeks ago, Jaehyun your brother again, Mark in your close proximity after so long, you’d break down in tears—you wouldn’t have gotten so nauseous. It was because you were aware that the corpse lying on that slab wasn’t Yoonsu. He was just another one of Yoonsu’s many victims, and you can’t help but think it was you that got that poor innocent man lying on that slab, wearing the face of a monster.

This was your fault. All your fault.

But the worst thing was, you’re about to move in with Yoonsu in some podunk apartment not long after this, and leave behind the people that you yearned for.

Why did Yoonsu have to come back?

No, why was Yoonsu even borned in the first place?

Why did he have to make your life a misery? Why did he have to push you to isolate yourself from your loved ones?

You turned your head to the clear glass doors of the building, seeing Yoonsu drinking a cup of coffee from across the street, a hat covering most of his face.

You’ve had it. He’s going to pay.

You snapped your head back to the floor, focusing on gathering yourself and calming down. When you were stable enough, you stood up, Kyungsoo following suit. He looked at you weirdly, finding your emotionless face a little off putting. You didn’t look even remotely relieved with Yoonsu dead. Something was off with you, but as you turned to face him and asked if you were allowed to leave, he let you go anyway. The look behind your eyes was full of rage for some reason, and he noted you actually looked like you were gearing up for something. He watched as you walked away, a lingering feeling gnawing at the back of his mind.

Something was wrong with you, but what exactly was it?

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Yuno would always make sure not to be at home every time you were, and for the first time in a while, you couldn’t feel so terrible about it anymore, even though he’s probably avoiding you for that fight you had two weeks ago. It was just three days after the concert, after you ditched him and your dad.

“Why? Why am I not as important as he is? Please, I’m sorry for not being there for you when you needed me most, Y/N, but—but I’m here now, as your brother again, so that has to mean something to you. Do you have to put that guy over me? Over Geonwoo and Woojin? When they’ve sacrificed so much for you?” Yuno never liked to raise his voice or yell, as he would seldom get so worked up enough to do so anyway.

But he can’t help it. He still remembered how it felt like when he watched you walk away from the bleachers when he was just about to perform the songs that were of his own creation. Not just covers of some other artists’ songs that he liked, but his own songs. He knew that you knew just how much that concert meant for him, so why?

Why did you have to leave and go to Junyoung? Couldn’t you have put it off just for that night and watched your brother perform and live out his lifelong dream?

“Here we are again as family, but you had to throw it all away for that guy!” He yelled out at the top of his lungs, making you wince.

“...just because you’re sorry for not being there for me doesn’t change the fact you weren’t there for me, Yuno. Seriously, what would you know about what I went through back then?” You scoffed by the end. 

Yuno began to place his palms on the kitchen area’s island, head dropped down as he took in deep breaths.

“I don’t know anything, Y/N, because I’m trying to let yourself open up to me in your own pace—”

“It’s been so fucking exhausting forcing myself to open up to you guys. It’s not like that when I’m with Junyoung, don’t you get it? Every time one of you act this way, you’d just make me regret coming clean about my past to you in the first place. God, now you’re making me wish you’d go back to treating me like a stranger again.”

—and that’s why he doesn’t want to be around you anymore. Wasn’t even phased when you said you were going to move in with your precious Junyoung. Ever since the morgue visit, every time you replayed that argument you had with Yuno, your promise to get back at Yoonsu would be whispered back to you with more conviction. You were going to make him pay, doesn’t matter the cost.

As you taped the last box of the stuff you're bringing along for the moving, that’s when you noticed Yuno had left his old phone on the living area’s coffee table. He brought a new sim card along with the new phone he brought just a few days ago, so this old phone probably had his old sim card. You took it and checked—yes, it was still inside, and intact, and functional. With Yuno’s old phone in your hand, you stared at it for a long while, until you made a silent apology to Yuno before pocketing it. You knew he probably wanted to sell it, considering he already did a factory reset on it, but you needed it more.

You could think of a good use for it.

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A/N : Y/N IN HER REVENGE ERA YUPPPPP

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

• taglist • [CLOSED]

@spiderm444rk @morkiee @xiuriii @solvrse @neozon3nha @herebyaccident0 @injunnie-lemon @mystverse @dearmonamour @v-6893 @sehunniepot @bee-the-loser @nessaassen02 @luluvhs @sunghoonsgfreal @docilismo @neocrashed @soobinbunnie5 @cigarettesafterjae @dudekiss3r @kittydollzz @urlocalbeaner5 @polarisjisung @conwunder @wonupuppy @jae-n0 @413ktz @kimsaerom @meowtella @aerivrs @swanyvess @morkleesgirl @sthwaaberry @nominzn @grassbutneo @spicyryujin @koizekomi @sunflowerhae @markeroolee

[fryingpan1234567]

so what if the Bats were Spiders instead?

in a different universe, Bruce Wayne grew up with arachnophobia instead of chiroptophobia. he found secret experiments in a lab beneath their family estate, and it didn’t take him long to pick up the family business.

neurotoxin experiments. spiders.

in a different universe, Bruce Wayne became Spider-Man.

in a different universe, Dick Grayson didn’t need to be bitten by a spider to pick up the Spider-Man mantle. he grew up knowing how to do all the acrobatics and combat anyways— all B had to do was give him web shooters and a suit. but there couldn’t be two Spider-Man’s. so he became Nightwing. but with a blue spider on his chest instead of a bird!

Nightwing’s webs come from his escrima sticks. they’re packing some serious voltage, so sometimes in a pinch he’ll use them instead of his police-issued taser. his favorite part about the whole spider thing is that he can fully just… throw himself off of buildings. and not die. he’s an adrenaline junkie, what can he say?

in a different universe, Jason Todd did everything the same. tried to steal the wheels off the vehicle of the most famous vigilante in Gotham. B picked him up and let him choose the spider and gave him the power to do good.

Robin “giving him magic” didn’t stop the Green Goblin from caving in his skull. although spiders you thought you’d killed do have a way of disappearing.

and returning. in a different universe, the Red Hood took the black widow as his mascot and nobody could do anything in Gotham City without him knowing about it. he single-handedly put down all the arms dealers in the city.

in a different universe, Tim Drake made his own spider. he’d been a fan of Thomas and Bruce Wayne’s work for his whole life, or at least since he learned how to read— and he figured he could get Spider-Man’s attention if he was able to replicate the project as young as he did.

oh, he got Spidey’s attention all right. befriending and adopting an alien symbiote will do that. player 4 has joined the game.

in a different universe, Venom is co-piloted by Tim, who really does like aliens. B thinks it’s a tiny bit weird, but while Tim is tiny his alien companion is very much not. it’s extra armor.

Tim works at the Daily Bugle. nobody knows how exactly he gets the quality kind of photos he does of Gotham’s Spider-family situation, but who’s complaining? he’s just really good at his job.

in a different universe, Cassandra Cain was bitten by a spider before she even met Bruce Wayne. her mother had trained her for combat for her whole life. she couldn’t prepare her for superpowers.

B was happy to help. in a different universe, rather than Cass becoming Blackbat, she took on the alias Black Widow. watch your back for her, though. she’s got the same deadly instinct in every universe.

in a different universe, Stephanie Brown became the first Spider-Woman. of course, she wasn’t the only one, but there’s something about being the original, isn’t there?

she knows she’s funny. she thinks it’s part of the job; it feels right. she’s the closest to the average canon Spider-Man. she could’ve been recruited to the Society at any point in time. and there’s something about that too.

in a different universe, Damian Wayne was born with superpowers. he’d inherited Bruce’s from birth. Talia was quick to hand him off once she realized her baby could crawl on walls and ceilings. the Spider Cave was getting a bit crowded, but what’s one more dangerous, unpredictable, biologically enhanced child? bring it on.

aside from Hood, Tarantula is the only Spider willing to kill a man on the field. yeah, as in. bird-eating tarantula. Robin. get it?

of course, in a different universe, he still had his katana. wouldn’t be Damian Wayne without it. his favorite thing is to swing down from a skyscraper with his webs and run through bad guys like kebabs. B says it’s immoral, but who can be mad about stabbing Doc Ock’s goons?

in another universe, Duke Thomas is the most famous member of the family. he’s the other closest to canon Spider-Man. he takes the day jobs, he talks to the press, he’s the least-hated at the Daily Bugle.

his webs glow. that makes night ops harder. so he sticks to the sunlight. people started calling him the Spider-Signal. which doesn’t make a lot of sense? but Duke is the kinda guy to just kinda shrug it off, because he’s not gonna take on the entire city’s press on his own.

Miguel O’Hara stayed the bleeding hell away from this universe. this group of bats spiders were too unpredictable to have in the Spider Society at all. there were no missions there, but constant surveillance. (until. you know. Miles Morales rocked up with a proposition to take down a tyrannical system with horrible judgement and a corrupted leader. and then Miguel couldn’t ignore the Wayne family anymore.)

how I love the multiverse. endless possibilities, amirite?

(please ask me to write more for this au. drabbles. more characters. PLEASE)

[cdragons]

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 3

Previous Part

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. But goddamn, Oliver Quick was a fucking close runner-up.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, slight mention of blood, sexual harassment, Felix is delulu and kind of a pig, Reader just wants some fucking peace, Michael is Michael and the best, Oliver is Oliver (the worst)

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who commented and reblogged! I didn't expect this story to gain so many readers, and this was a challenging chapter to write - but only because there were some scenes I couldn't add because it would have gotten too long otherwise.

If there was a God out there, you prayed for the coming term to be as wonderful as this holiday had been for you.

You really wanted to kick yourself in the pants for making such a fucking cheesy wish at night watching the stars with Michael.

Right now, you were leaning to rest your head against a bookshelf in a slant position. You had a splitting migraine that began from the moment you woke up and worsened with nausea from your tutorial. And you couldn’t even go back to your dorm for the rest of the day because your lab course for your gen-ed didn’t allow for absences.

“What’d she do now?” came a voice on your right.

You looked to the right and were blinded by a white and blue-striped button-down shirt with short sleeves tucked into a pair of tan khaki pants.

Your knight-in-silver-framed glasses, Michael Gavey, everyone.

All the guy was missing was a pocket protector with pens and tape wrapped around the bridge, and he would have matched every bullied kid in every high school movie set in the 80s.

You turned around to lean your back against the bookshelves and slowly lowered yourself until your butt was parallel to your feet. Blowing the stray hairs out of your face, you remembered to take deep breaths to prevent you from blowing up at your only friend.

“No,” you sighed, “well – yes, but nothing I can’t handle.”

Do you love your classes? Yes. Was Daria Martin still your art teacher, and did she still like you? Yes. Are the rest of your teachers mostly assholes that think all Americans are Appalachian hill-billies? Also, yes. But were you still not excelling and scoring in the top ten after every exam? Naturally, no doubt about it.

But were you as invisible and unnoticed as you were before the break came? No. Did anyone with a pulse give you side-eyed glances after your stunt with the 24/7 shit-faced He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named? Pretty much, yes. Did most of your problems come from one mythic bitch in a 5’3” flesh suit that had the ‘Juicy’ logo plastered on her ass? Namely, one in particular, Annabel – who was your assigned student partner in your tutorial.

Was your new name among the student body now “Psycho Bitch”? …Unfortunately, yes.

…Okay, so this term has not been going as well as you had hoped during the break.

Annabel hated you – like hated-HATED you. And you had no idea why.

You were pretty sure you were less than blank air to her last term, but now she was determined to make your life a living hell. Last term, she skipped every other session to do whatever Annabel did. But now, it felt like she came to every tutorial for the opportunity to tear apart your work.

You’re pretty confident she was the one who started your new “name” about a few weeks ago when the weather began to warm up.

It’s not as if you were a stranger to being picked and prodded by the people born with silver spoons on their tongues and blessed with golden-tipped wings. You were a public-school kid from grades K-12 who went to Townsend Harris for those last four years. Townsend Harris High School was a public school, but make no mistake – it was just as full of the same bullshit hierarchy that made up every private school in Manhattan.

"Open the doors to all. Let the children of the rich and the poor take their seats together and know of no distinction save that of industry, good conduct, and intellect."

What crock. You only survived those years because every kid knew that your dad was an NYU professor who knew the Dean of Admissions of Columbia. You couldn’t recall how often you wished you had joined your friends at Flushing High or even Bayside.

However, regardless of the snide snarks and bullshit snickers pointed at you, you were left alone for the most part.

Sure – it sucked; that goes without saying. It was naïve of you to assume that people would grow out of the need for drama once they walked through the ivory doors and marble floors of higher education. It was stupid of you to think that everyone would forget about your outburst at Bodleian while they were getting drunk on the New Year.

And while Annabel was one migraine-inducing problem, she wasn’t the worst part of returning. No, that title belonged to her boyfriend, a whole other can of monkeys.

The worst part – the worst part of EVERYTHING – was how Felix fucking Catton was incapable of just leaving you the hell alone. It was like he had a little antenna sticking out of his head specifically for you whenever the two of you were within a ten-foot radius of him. Everywhere you went, it was as if you had a giant blinking arrow above you screaming, “Felix Catton’s New Toy”!

No, you were less than a toy – you were a joke, a gimmick.

God, you should have just stuck to your original plan and applied to any SUNY school that would have accepted you without even looking at your application.

But no, your good-Samaritan-obsessed college counselor called your parents and complained that you weren’t “putting yourself out there” enough. And now you were over thirty-four hundred miles away from home, stuck with the worst people ever. It was like a thousand tiny prickles were running on your skin as your mind filled with static.

Whenever Felix called out to you, it was to invite you to a party or get wasted. One time, he walked up to you insanely plastered and invited you for a quickie in the men’s bathroom. You were in an empty lecture hall since your usual spot in the library was taken, and Michael was still in class, so you didn’t see the point in trying to find an open spot.

Somehow – without you noticing – the guy plopped himself next to you and asked if there were any rooms in the building where he could smoke a joint in.

“Pretty sure you could open the window in the bathroom to smoke in there,” you replied absentmindedly.

And then he put his hand ON YOUR THIGH, leaned to your ear to whisper, “Wanna get out of here to join me? We don’t have only to get high.”

You grabbed all your shit and booked it – out of the building and all the way to your dorm to take a shower that lasted for around twenty minutes. You wanted to get rid of the smell of nicotine and overpriced aftershave. The scent of him on your skin made you wish you could tear it off.

And in your panic, you left your bike at the building’s entrance.

When you returned to retrieve it, it was after dark, and you recruited Michael as your tall and bony human shield.

“Do not ever walk home alone at night,” your mom told you every morning you left for school.

You tried not to think about the haunted look in her eyes each time she told you.

“Wanna skip the dining hall tonight? We can walk to Crowley Street and order take-out at that Pakistani place you like so much.”

Oh, that perked you right up. Jannahs Express was a broke college student’s paradise. The food was cheap, and the owners took pity on the international students. It was slightly more expensive in the UK, but it was the closest you could find with food on par to Kababish on Broadway in Queens. You stifled a laugh remembering the sight of Michael drinking the entire pitcher of water after you dared him to try a dish at ‘regular.’

“Seriously? Do you think you could take more than ‘English-mild’?” you asked as you stood up. “How did you survive your mom’s cooking for so long? She made us Indian food on our last night.”

“Mum grew up in London, and she had neighbors teach her how to make it the traditional way. You’re the only person who could take that level. Lilypad and I got Dad’s taste buds.”

Choking on your spit from laughing at the image of Gregory Gavey’s face turning firetruck red, you felt the migraine slowly disappear.

“Yeah, I’ll bet. God, I can’t imagine the look on his face when –”

A familiar voice that left a bitter taste in your mouth after hearing interrupted your conversation.

“Hey, (Y/N). Can we talk?”

You and Michael turned your heads to find Oliver Quick – Michael’s former friend, your former acquaintance – and the sight of him soured the mood instantaneously. You narrowed your eyes to dangerous slits to show your displeasure seeing him as one corner of your lip curled to show a sneer. You never liked the guy. There was just something about how he acted and presented himself. He had a profound desperation to impress everyone around him.

So much so that he immediately dropped Michael after becoming Felix Catton’s new pet. As evidenced by the oversized gray zip-up hoodie blanketing him. Felix’s, no doubt.

Fuck, you hated him.

“Ugh, what do you want?” you snapped, taking a bit of pleasure in seeing how your voice made him flinch.

“Look, can we –” his eyes hastily darted to Michael, then you, then behind him to make sure no one was watching him “– can we talk in private?”

Seriously? That’s how he wants to play this?

In the corner of your eye, you saw how tightly Michael clenched his fists. He was obviously still hurt from the time his ex-friend treated him like shit.

Oh, this will not do.

“Oliver,” you snarled as you crossed your arms over your chest, “whatever the hell you have to say to me, you can say in front of Michael.”

“Can you please not do this now?” he begged with pathetic eyes. How very in-character of him.

“Tick tock, Quick. Are you going to talk, or do I have to throw a drink in your face again? But this time, I’ll smash the glass on your face, too.”

Seeing the look on his face gave you almost a perverse sense of joy. Maybe this is why bullies exist.

“Do you think you’ll be at the pub sometime this week?”

What the fuck? Was he serious? His question caught you completely off-guard. You expected him to ask for notes or even help with homework, as his grades have slipped since becoming an official Felix Catton fanboy.

“At the pub – Oliver, when have I drunk alcohol in the entire time we’ve known each other?”

“You’ll turn nineteen this year, right? It’s only illegal if you’re under 18,” he tried to put out convincingly.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. But you’re forgetting the part where I’m still an American citizen. Just because it’s legal for me to vote doesn’t mean it’s okay for me to drink yet.”

“No one cares about that here!” he almost shouted. “Just come with me to the pub at King’s Arms for the next few nights.”

“No fucking way,” you scoffed. “My parents would kill me if they found out I drank on a school night. Also, in case you forgot, we still have our test tomorrow in History. And I, for one, don’t need to get sloshed every night to feel important.”

Michael tugged on your sleeve and nodded at the small crowd forming around you three. You sighed in silence, agreeing that it wasn’t worth it. You both tried to walk away, but you were grabbed and stumbled back, which caused you to drop your books.

“Ow! Are you kidding–” but a wince broke your complaint as Oliver’s hold on your arm tightened to a painful grip. Your eyes traveled to his face, and you were shocked to see the anger shining in his eyes.

“Why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?” he grit out. “Are you trying to ruin my life?”

The way his nails dug into your skin made you curse under your breath. Seeing you in pain broke Michael out of his shock at how someone as meek as Oliver Quick could show so much aggression. He rushed to get him off you.

“Are you fucking mental?” he hissed at Oliver once he managed to separate to two of you.

But Oliver’s nail left red scratch marks down to your wrist, even breaking the skin enough to cause little beads of blood to escape. This enraged Michael like you have never seen. Staring at the evidence of his former friend’s clawing, he walked forward and pushed him to the bookshelf before grabbing his shirt with both hands.

“What’s wrong with you?” Michael yelled. “She already said no!”

You wiped the blood off your arm with an old travel tissue pack you stole from the plane you took from JFK to London last summer. God, everyone was staring at you guys now. You needed to find a way to contain the situation. If any staff catches you, all three of you may risk trouble. Trouble that would jeopardize your scholarships. You grabbed Michael’s hands to get him to loosen his grip.

“Look, I’ll hear you out–” you looked around and cringed at everyone’s stares, “–just not here.”

This calmed Oliver’s rage enough to get Michael to let go.

“Okay,” he whispered, “okay – yeah. Let’s go outside.”

The three of you grabbed your shit and quickly exited the library. You went to the same area behind the building with no windows – ergo, no bystanders to gawk at you.

“Okay, we’re outside. Look, I’m sorry about your arm. But can you please just –”

You lifted your hand to stop him.

“Okay, look. I only said I would hear you out to make you and Michael stop fighting,” you stated matter-of-factly. “None of us could afford to get in trouble with the faculty and staff, and it was getting too out-of-hand. Oliver, I am not going to King Arm’s tonight or any night you ask me. I have my own life, so don’t drag me into yours.”

Oliver gaped like a fish for a few seconds before speaking.

“But you have to! Please! If you do, then maybe he’ll –”

“WHO?” you interrupted, shouting. “Who will be there? Who is so important that you act so fucking psycho for five minutes ago?”

This was too much for you to deal with everything on your plate already.

“Cut the vague bullshit already! Why are you desperate for me to be there? It’s so –” You froze as an epiphany struck down you.

Oh, hell fucking no…

“Are you hoping that Felix will be there?” you asked through clenched teeth.

You felt like a volcano ready to blow with his slight nod. And like a volcano – you blew.

“You mean to tell me that you risked all our asses, attacked, and humiliated me for fucking FELIX CATTON?!”

You couldn’t believe it – you couldn’t fucking believe it. Felix Catton took up so much of your life already; once again, he felt it necessary to take more of it for himself.

How much more could one man take? How much more did he want until it was enough?

He had taken so much – more than any person other than yourself had any right to own. Your education, your peace, and what was next? Your body? Your life? Did he intend to bleed you dry of everything like a parasitic vampire he and his kind pretended not to be?

You were going crazy, insane, and running yourself tired all at once. The absurdity of it all made you laugh. You laughed and laughed and laughed until you were gasping for air. You laughed so hard that tears spilled from your eyes as you doubled over.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “oh my god! That’s it. Of course, it is. What else could it be?”

Standing straight, you kept laughing, but you were staring at Oliver with an answer clear in your eyes.

“He got bored of you,” you accused him, “didn’t he? So quickly?”

God, how you relished how red his face turned. If you were smart, you would have stopped taunting there – but you were too tired of everything to care.

“It’s been what? A month? Maybe two?” you further pressed. “He really just loves to go through all his toys, huh?”

“(Y/N),” Michael whispered in your ear, “let’s just go.”

He looked at Oliver with disdainful eyes before softening them to look back at you.

“He isn’t worth it. Come on, let’s get your cut cleaned up before we leave.”

You let Michael gently drag you away from the hurricane mess that was Oliver Quick, leaving him to stew in anger and wallow in self-pity on the chilly spring night.

A few days later, you and Michael were walking back to his dorm after watching one of the most notable movie franchises starring one of Hollywood’s best actors.

“How could you not love Pirates of the Caribbean?” you cried. “Johnny Depp is beyond brilliant!”

“Oh, so acting drunk in front of an expensive camera is now considered brilliant?” he quipped back. “Shit, I should have just gone into acting instead.”

“I’m sorry, do you not remember his jar of dirt? That scene was completely improvised, by the way – including his fall.”

“Oh – not the stupid jar of dirt! Lil’ kept buggering me all summer doing that scene after I took her to see it!”

“Oh, I meant to ask. What did Lily think of the books I got for her birthday? Were they weird?”

“Are you kidding? She loved them. She keeps going on about how she wants to be Annabeth for Halloween. Oh, by the way, she’s making me dress up as Luke and wants you to go as Thalia.”

Your jaw dropped in shock. “Seriously?! Yes, let’s do it. I am so in.”

“She is aware that Luke’s the villain, right?”

“Don’t worry about it so much. She wants to share these memories with you. And you are such a good brother, Mikey.”

“I am never going to escape that name with you,” he groaned, “am I?”

“Nope!” you happily confirmed. “Never! When I write my speech at your wedding, I will mention it at least fifteen times.”

“I’ll allow six.”

“Twelve.”

“Ten, take it or leave it.”

“Ten it is. Pinky-swear.”

You held out your pinky to show sincerity. And like someone raised correctly, Michael respected the sanctity of the swear by reciprocating.

“Perfect! Now that that’s settled, is it okay if I crash at your place for the night? It’s so late, and we don’t have classes tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied. “Just make sure you – Annabel.”

Wait, what? You stopped walking and turned to look at your friend in confusion.

“Annabel?”

He pointed it out in front of him with a slight nod.

“Annabel,” he confirmed.

Indeed, it was Annabel. But she was sitting slumped against the hallway’s walls with vomit all over her blue dress.

Felix had been going mad for the past few months since his and Farleigh’s return to Oxford. It was already almost May, and he hadn’t come any closer to getting (Y/N)’s attention.

What could he possibly be doing that was so wrong?

He invites you to parties or a drink with you every time he sees you. He had hoped that being friends with Ollie would have given him an “in” with you, but there was no such luck. Did you really have no idea how he felt about you? How much more obvious could he be?

He remembered how happy he was when he realized that Oliver knew you. It was that night at the pub at Kings’ Arms. He recalled it so vividly.

Felix was silent throughout the entire transaction. The sight of you coming over entirely transfixed him. Your hair had two small braids on the side that were attached with small yellow butterfly clips. You were wearing black denim overalls with vintage-looking patches sewn onto the fabric. Your shirt was a light blue-dyed shirt-sleeved t-shirt with splotches of navy blue. It must have been something you made when you were little. The fabric looked soft and worn down. But the size was small enough to hug the curves of your upper torso perfectly. The way the fabric stretched across your tits made him salivate.

After he introduced himself to you, you only responded with a grimace and a slight nod of acknowledgment. He invited you to join him and his friends for a drink, but you only ignored him. His words were meaningless breezes to you – white noise in the background that added to the clang and chatter in the room. He wasn’t even paying attention to Oliver until you threw that drink at him.

“Fucking cunt-rag!” you called Ollie after throwing Farleigh’s drink in his face. You shoved a middle finger for added effect. “Don’t ever show your face in front of me again.”

Grabbing your coat, you stomped away from the table.

Absentmindedly handing his friend some tissues, Felix had to know what your deal was with Oliver. Were you two dating or just friends? He didn’t know how he felt about his new friend being romantically involved with his angel.

“Wait, do you two know each other?” he asked.

“What?” asked Oliver – not understanding his idol’s question before his mind finally registered it. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, she’s a friend of a friend.”

“Were you two ever, like ‘together’?” Felix had to know.

Oliver’s eyes widened a bit before shaking his head and panickedly answering.

“No, no, no. We have a few classes together – that’s it.”

Felix couldn’t believe his luck. Ollie must really be his hero.

“Do you think you could introduce us?” he asked excitedly – his molten chocolate eyes were shining ablaze with hope.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Oliver quickly agreed – anything to keep his attention on him.

Felix felt like leaping to the sky. He could run a marathon with how much energy was flooding throughout him. He clapped his hands before grabbing Ollie’s face with both hands and smacking a wet kiss on both cheeks.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” Felix went up to get him another pint. “You’re my hero, Ollie. You really are.”

As he lay on his bed, he tried to remember every interaction with you. His last one with you was something he could admit went horribly wrong.

He wandered on the grounds when he stumbled on a building with your bike on the rack. Figuring that you were just in a lecture, Felix figured he could try to catch up with you when it was done. It wasn’t like he had anything important later. He would stay near the entrance and try to catch your attention when you walked out.

Simple.

And because he was God’s favorite, he found you sitting in the middle of an empty classroom. You were taking notes while reading a massive textbook while lightly bobbing your head to whatever was blasting through your earbuds.

Sliding to the seat next to you, he smoothly asked you if there was any room where he could smoke. You didn’t even bother to look at him while answering him – too fixated with your studies to pay attention to him.

Knowing that he had to get you to look at him through more direct actions, Felix impulsively put his hand on your thigh before asking you if you wanted to join him. He even joked, saying that you didn’t only have to get high.

But seeing the terror in your eyes threw him off. He quickly wanted to tell you that he was only joking. If you knew that he wasn’t being serious, maybe you would ease up around him. But before he could apologize, you frantically stood from your seat to gather your books in your bag before running out of the room.

Felix groaned into his hands as he recalled how fast you ran out of the room and away from him.

“Felix, you’re a fucking idiot,” he softly insulted himself.

God, what the hell was wrong with him? Why did he think that someone as studious as you would ever consider getting high with some bloke in the bathroom of an academic building?

Every step he tried to take forward with you felt like he was going ten steps back. He needed to find a way to get on your good side.

Maybe Ollie could – no, that was a dead end. Fuck, he needed a drink.

Lying on his bed, Oliver stared at the ceiling of his room. Annabel had just left with the bottle of vodka they had been drinking out of for the past half hour. He wanted to cry.

Why was everything going wrong?

But he knew the reason. It was you.

He was so naïve to think you wouldn’t be an obstacle. You had practically ruined everything from the beginning. It wasn’t just when you refused to help him the other day but also that night at the pub at Kings’ Arms.

While Felix was ordering him a drink, Oliver sat bewildered at the sequence of events that had transpired in the past five minutes. First, Felix invited him over to sit with him and his friends. And when things had been so well, you interrupted his excellent time by asking where Michael was. When you realize he has left your friend alone, you ask for Farleigh Start’s drink before throwing it in his face. You then called him a “cunt-rag” before storming off like a goddamn child.

Luckily, Felix hadn’t listened to you speak. But that was only because he stared at you – stared at you like he was born to worship you. Even worse, Felix asked him if he could introduce the two of you at some point. The way Felix’s eyes widened in glee when Oliver agreed enraged him – even more than when you insulted and almost humiliated him in front of Felix.

Staring at his back, Oliver figured Felix’s attention on you wasn’t something to worry about. He was only interested in you because you were pretty. As much as you infuriated him, Oliver admitted that you had a rare and genuine beauty to you. He didn’t know whether it was your indifference for Oxford’s gods and kings or your dedication to keeping in touch with your American roots – but it was enough to enrapture Felix Catton temporarily.

No, Oliver Quick had no reason to worry. He would be enough for Felix. And then you would be an afterthought, and he’d be Felix Catton’s everything.

Oliver had to find a way to ensure you wouldn't be a problem anymore. You'd comply - there would come a time when you won't have a choice.

Let me know if you want me to write the full scene of Reader throwing the drink at Oliver!

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @aemondsbabe, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindnow, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss, @immyowndefender, @ilovemydinoboi, @ahristata, @cxp1d, @jinsoulorbitzen12, @temptation-waits, @bollzinurmouth, @jcngw0ns, @seababehh, @destinydestnation, @lankyboi4, @mindless-rock, @cassavacakes

Please comment and/or reblog your thoughts and if you want to be added to the taglist!

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal- Part 19

WC: 2134, Masterpost

Danny sit up straighter in his chair as he states his name, but Wally can see the wince that Danny tries to hide. Absently, Wally runs through Danny’s schedule of care and when the other will be able to have more pain medication.

“Were you born with powers?” Bruce continues.

“No.”

Wally wants to go to Danny. He wants to tell him that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that Danny has powers. It doesn’t mater how he got them. It doesn’t matter that Wally didn’t know. None of it matters to Wally; he’s just glad that Danny is still here.

“Are you comfortable explaining how did you got your powers?”

Danny runs his hand through his hair. He’s nervous. “Some of it. The broad strokes. It was a lab accident, because of course there was. My parents are ecto scientists, they study ghosts. They’re not… let’s just say don’t read their research into ghostly behavior. They are brilliant engineers though. They managed to build a portal to the Infinite Realms—”

“Minging knobheads,” John curses quietly.

“—and I was sorta in the portal when it turned on. Which, um, killed me and revived me at the same time. I was electrocuted while my system was flooded with ectoplasm.”

Killed.

Danny had— Danny had died. Again, before, Danny had died. Wally closed his eyes and swallowed around the catch in his throat. He almost never got the chance to know Danny. A hand fit into his and Wally knows instantly that it’s Dick’s. He grips it back tightly. At least he isn’t listening to this alone.

“It’s not so much that I got powers, as that because I’m half dead, I’m half ghost and I can do the things that ghosts can do. Invisibility, intangibility, flight… things like that. Long story short, someone had to stop the ghosts that the portal let through—”

John is up and pacing now. Zatanna doesn’t even try to stop him.

“—so I sort of became the town hero. I went by Phantom. It was… well, you’ve all been there.”

God, Wally wishes Danny didn’t know how that was.

“Kid… did you even have anyone to help you?” Barry asks.

Danny shrugs. “Two friends and eventually Ja… my older sister.. There are a few ghosts that were sometimes allies but ghosts��”

“Ghosts aren’t good or evil, they’ve got obsessions,” John explains into the silence. “Sometimes those obsessions motivate the ghosts in a way that seems one way or another. It only works out for you as long as your needs aligns with their obsession.”

Wally’s mind spins.

“Danny,” Bruce asks with very careful words, “do you have an obsession?”

He searches back through his memories of Danny.

“Yes.”

It couldn’t be anything anyone would see as bad or dangerous.

“Protection. My obsession is protection. It’s not as compelling to me as it is for a full ghost. For me it’s more like a hunger craving or itch, but it is there. It’s a good part of why I became a paramedic.”

Oh. That made so much sense.

“That’s our Danny,” Danna says, softly, from in their group.

“Why did you not simply join us as a hero?” Diana asks.

“Before, well, things were… complicated? There’s this government agency that considers ghosts non-sentient and—”

Danny jerks back in his chair at all the exclamations that rang out in the room at that. It isn’t just a reaction to the sudden noise, Wally realizes, Danny looks startled at being defended.

It breaks Wally’s heart.

“It’s okay!” Danny says over the din. “They were always pretty incompetent, really, even when working with my parents. I never even ended up vivisected or anything!”

Gar clamps a hand over his mouth and mutters. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Danny,” Dianna says his name gently, “have your parents ever attacked you?”

“They don’t know I’m a halfa. They don’t know I’m Phantom,” Danny says. There’s a pleading note to his voice that makes Wally agree with Gar; he’s going to be sick.

“But they’ve attacked Phantom,” Dianna says. It’s not a question, but Danny nods anyways. “Danny, do we need to set up protection for you from your parents?”

“They don’t know—”

“Kid,” Barry interrupts, “what you did was on the news. Like, every news station across the world. I think they know now.”

Danny sits back in his chair. He picks at the already frayed edge of the hoodie. Suddenly he looks small in a way that Wally’s only seen when Danny’s been in the middle of a panic attack. Any strength Danny’s gathered the last few days seems to leave him as his shoulders slump. “Maybe. I guess… I don’t know how they’ll take the news. It’s… maybe. We’ll, um, more than that someone needs to make sure the portal stays closed down. If the ghosts start coming through again…”

The hand Danny presses against his chest shakes. “I’m not as strong as I used to be. I don’t know if my powers will come back still or if this… is what I am now, but my core is weaker than it used to be. If this the way I’ll be now, I won’t be able to fight them off.”

“Are they dangerous?” Bruce asks. “Beyond the morality of their obsession, are they actively dangerous to you?”

“That’s not an easy question. Mostly the ghosts used Amity Park as a new way to fulfill their obsessions. Lunch Lady wants to feed people, which is good, but if you don’t want to eat things can get nasty. Obsessions are like that, they can twist quickly. The ghosts also just like to brawl, a lot of them at least. Some of them would understand if I can’t and back off, but there are others… take Skulker,” Danny says with a wave of his hand, “his obsession is hunting rare game and, well, I’m rare game. He wants to mount my pelt to his wall.”

With an unpleasant noise, Gar dashes from the room. It makes Danny wince and mumble an apology.

Wally is already mentally calling favors to call in to safeguard their apartment, not that he thinks anyone will say no to protecting Danny.

“We’ll make checking on the portal a priority as soon as this meeting is done,” Bruce assures Danny.

“Thank you. I don’t want anyone to be hurt if it gets turned back on.”

“Why has it been off? If it’s off, why would they turn it back on now?” John asks, still pacing.

Danny looks away from the table again. “Because they remember now.”

“The curse?” John asks at the same time Bary asks, “What do you mean remember?”

“I mean they forgot, because, yeah, the curse,” Danny says. He’s back to picking at his sleeve. Everyone gives him time to try and find his words, which he does with a wet laugh. “I was stupid. I mean, I was young, but I still should have known better. I was just… I was having a hard time. My parents were working on a new GIW contract and my friends… team were going off to college… I was going to be alone to deal with the ghosts. I still should have known better. I just wished I could be normal.”

“That’s not wrong, Danny,” Barry says. “We’ve all felt that sometime…”

Danny’s shaking his head. “You don’t understand. You don’t wish in Amity Park.”

“Because of this Desiree?” Zatanna asks.

“Because of Desiree,” Danny confirms. “Some ghosts have very specific powers and those are usually strong powers. For Desiree, it’s… it was reality altering based on wishes. I forgot to never say ‘I wish’.”

After a moment of comprehending silence, Diana asks, “She had the power to make you fully human?”

“No, even borrowing power like I think she did, Desiree couldn’t do that. But that’s not what she needed to do. Normal isn’t a real thing, it’s just societal, you know? She just had to make sure no one remembered I was half dead and, tada, I had a normal life.”

John finally stops pacing and leans against the back of his chair. His cigarette is a mangled mess dangling from his lips. “What was the catch?”

“I wanted to be normal, so I had to stay normal. I couldn’t be noticed using any of my powers or being too ghostly or tell anyone I had died or what things used to be like. If I did— well you all saw what happened,” Danny looks up, finally, right at Wally. “It’s why I couldn’t tell any of you, even if I wanted too. It’s why I couldn’t use my powers to help. As soon as I did, I was good as dead.”

More than ever Wally wants to rush over to Danny’s side. He wants to let Danny know it’s alright that he kept this secret. It doesn’t matter. He settles for what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

“I still don’t know how I survived. As soon as Desiree appeared and took my powers, that should have been it for me. My ghost half can’t survive without them and my human half isn’t alive enough to last by itself. It would be like cutting off a normal person’s oxygen. I should have been ended.”

“We overloaded her,” Zatanna explains.

“Forced all your power— which there was a fucking lot of it— into her at once,” John finished. “She popped like a balloon with too much air.”

“Did you have to describe it that way?” Hal grumbles.

“Oh.” Danny blinks a few times as he took that in. “I guess, okay. I mean, yeah, I was more powerful than a lot of ghosts; something about being a halfa and my state being mutable still. I didn’t think though… right, okay. But how am I still here?”

“When she popped,” John says with a smirk towards Hal, “the air was full of ambient ectoplasm. Flash zapped you, re-started your heart, and the cloud went up like a match in a fart.”

Danny’s face wrinkled up at that. “Ew. But, alright. I mean it was my power first. I guess that…” Danny’s hand comes up to press over his sternum. “I guess that means this is my power level now.”

“And the rest of the curse?” Zatanna asks, leaning forward in her seat.

“Gone. People remember now.”

Wally thought to all the phone messages Danny had been getting in a new light.

“That’s why we need to make sure the portal is closed.”

“As well as that the GIW are shut down and that your parents do not try to harm you,” Diana says with that firm certainty of hers.

“Right,” Danny says after a beat. It’s hard to see how clearly Danny doesn’t consider himself a priority. “And… for the rest of it all?”

Diana tilts her head in question. “The rest of it?”

“I didn’t tell anyone my status. I lied to some of you. Is that…”

“You did what you needed to stay alive and hurt no one.” She holds up a hand to stop any protests from Danny. “While I have no doubt with your heart as it is you do not wish you could have done more, it would have never been asked of you at the cost of your life. You are a hero, Danny, and have been since you joined the Response Team in Central City. You have only continued to prove it by your willingness to act and the honor with which you did so. The Justice League is proud to still have you as your post, as soon as you are recovered.”

Finally the last of the tension drains Danny’s shoulders. “I’ll be happy to get back to it.”

Wally tunes Diana out as she wraps up the meeting.

“I’m going to ask him,” Wally says to Dick, who still has his hand.

“What? Now?” Dick hisses.

Wally watches as Danny shakes Clark’s hand. “Why not? Everyone’s here, like you said had to be.”

“Because it’s a debrief! That’s not exactly the most romantic moment.”

The other Titans are standing around them, waiting for their chance to see Danny. Even Gar is back.

“I almost missed my chance, N. I almost never got to ask,” Wally pleads. “I don’t want to miss it again.”

Dick just sighs and pulls a small case out of his belt. He presses it into their clasped hands before releasing his grip

Wally can feel the smile stretching across his face. “You know me so well.”

Dick just shoves Wally off his chair. “Go get your man. Ghost? Man ghost.”

Laughing, Wally fumbles to his feet and towards Danny.

“Danny!”

Danny who’s still here and alive.

Who smiles like the sun as he turns towards Wally.

“Yes?”

---

AN: I don't know, is it too cruel to end right there? 😇 Don't worry, we'll get an epilogue to hopefully tie the loose ends up in a bow! But this is the last half of the last full chapter! They know! And they still respect and love Danny. He can stop worrying~

You can subscribe to the masterpost here.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Actually in love with the Bayverse kiddo stories you’ve done they’re so cute!! I honestly can’t pick which one is my favourite but I think it’s a tie between the stories of Raph and Donnie catching their kids sneaking out of the lair/in the lab without permission - idk they’re just really cute to read I love them both so much!! 

If you’re still taking ideas for family centred Bayverse stuff, if you’re comfortable with it how do you think the turtles would react to knowing their s/o is pregnant?? With how the turtles are mutant and their s/o would be human, would any of the turtles even think it was possible to produce healthy offspring?? Who would be very taken aback/take a while to come to terms with the situation verses who would adjust fairly quickly??

The Turtles Reactions To You Being Pregnant (Fluff)

Children Series

Bayverse!Turtles x reader

A/N: I hope this is what you were looking for. It might not be exactly as you described, but I hope you’ll enjoy it none the less💚

Warnings: Implied connulingus, talk of infertility.

Leonardo:

When you first learned of your pregnancy, you were in absolute shock. Maybe even horrified. Here you had married a mutant turtle, never taking the time to care much for protection, as neither of you thought anything would come of it. You and Leo had hoped. Even talked about it, allowing each other to dream about it for a moment. Children. Actually having children together. A dream that neither of you ever really believed would become true. But then, when you suddenly started noticing a few symptoms, you couldn’t stop yourself from taking a test. And then another because you didn’t believe the first result. And then one more. And another. You broke down, both out of happiness, fear and shock. But that would be nothing compared to when you told your husband about it.

At first Leo refused to believe what you told him. He almost got mad at you, thinking that you were playing some cruel joke on him. No way you dared making fun of something you both had fantasized about for so long, slowly coming to terms with the fact that it would never happen. But as you stood before him, teary eyed, holding up not just one but several positive tests, Leo could no longer deny what was true.

Leo felt every emotion within a few seconds. Overjoyed excitement and shock. So much, that for the first time in Leo’s well controlled life, he lost all emotional control. He cried, laughed, yelled, sang and at one point even did a little dance as he hurried out to the living area, in order to tell his family.

But then the fear and worry came crashing. Never had a human and a mutant turtle reproduce together. There was no way of knowing if the child would be born healthy. Or if it even was safe for you to carry a hybrid within you.

That unlocked a whole new side of Leo. A nervous rack that started fearing the worst, holding your hand tight and almost hugging himself, as the two of you awaited the test results from the various checks Donatello had made on you.

The wait for answers almost made Leo sick. He was fidgety, never leaving your side, fearing what would happen if he did. He laid awake most nights, holding you and your still unchanged stomach close. It got so bad that Donnie started worrying more about his brother’s wellbeing instead of yours, taking time out of your daily checks to check Leo’s vitals.

Finally came the day of answers. Nothing was out of the ordinary - well, other than the hybrid child inside of you. But there was no evidence that your health was at risk, or that the child was in any arms way. Donnie even found evidence that suggested that the mugaten you would have been exposed to through Leo, might even make the process smoother.

And with that Leo could finally breathe a sigh of relief, finally letting himself relax, feeling his much needed sleep rush over him, dreaming of the day you and Leo would be holding your first child out of many.

Raphael:

The revelation that a human could in fact get impregnated by a mutant turtle, was a game changer for you and Raph. You could still remember the exact moment you and Raph looked at each other, realizing what this could mean for the two of you.

Yet, children had never really been something you and Raph had talked about. But the moment Leo and his partner started getting ready for their first child, it was as if your thoughts started spinning. Well, Raph’s more than yours. Of course, Raph had felt the need for mating during mating season, along with the thought of offsprings, but it never went much further than that. Until now.

Raph started finding himself daydreaming about you, him and any future children quite often. You and him, mixed together in a cute little bundle of pure happiness.

The final trigger was when Raph’s nephew was born, and Raph could finally see how a reality like this might be better than his daydreams. And that was when Raph finally decided to tell you that he wanted a child, and just how long he had been thinking about it.

And much to you and Raph’s excitement, it didn’t take long before the bees and the flowers did their thing, and you got pregnant with you and Raph’s first child. And when you told Raph about it, his reaction showed just how badly he wanted this. Letting out a victory roar, Raph pulled you in for a tight hug, lifting you off the ground and showering your face with kisses, before throwing you over his shoulder, so he could bring you with the good news to the others.

During the majority of your pregnancy, Raph was cool. Even before you got pregnant, it wasn’t strange for him to smack your ass whenever he walked past you, but now he took it to a whole other level. It was pretty much impossible for you to walk around the lair, without Raph making some sort of spicy remark about your current situation, and how feasting it was for his eyes. Who would have thought that your husband would have a thing for your body parts growing due to child baring?

But the closer and closer you got to your due date, the more nervous Raph seemed to get. Any sound, any movement, and Raph was ready at your side, thinking that it was your signal that it was time.

But the day you finally went into labor, Raph was an absolute wreck, almost needing more care than you did, with you and the others reminding him to breathe while you pushed your first born out.

Nonetheless, the moment your daughter was born, and Raph realized everything was okay, he seemed to get some color back in his face.

Donatello:

You had for a long time wanted children. You had talked about it a long time before anybody even knew it would be possible, often letting Donnie know your thoughts on the topic. But Donnie, not so much. He had never really spent much time thinking about it, outside of his mating season. When he wasn’t in the middle of the most animalistic of his urges, the mere thought of having to take care of a child of his own, made him feel somewhat strange.

But then, seeing two of his brothers and their partners becoming parents, along with helping them through the process, made Donnie’s mind race. First it was an innocent small thought. A child. Then it turned into more. You and him with a child. But not just any child. Your child. His child. And then, before Donnie knew it, the baby fever had started taking over.

You noticed it before Donnie, seeing how he acted around his nephew and niece. It was like he had done a 180, from never really engaging in your conversations about children, but just letting you talk on your own, to actively helping out his brothers. He even started asking them questions about parenting. And at that point, pretty much everybody knew what was going on inside Donnie’s head, and there was no way he could hide it anymore. He wanted a child.

Donnie went into this, a little more well thought out than his brothers had. Taking account of your cyclus, along with his mating season, and all of the other factors he could find, Donnie found the perfect time for you and him to try to have a child. But all of that planning flew out the window the moment his mating season hit, and you found yourself pregnant within a short time.

Donnie was pretty level headed throughout the whole thing. He had wanted this. He had planned for this. Of course he was a little nervous. Who wouldn’t be? But he had to keep calm, for you and for the kid.

But then your water broke, causing Donnie to fly into an almost full blown panic, forgetting everything he had planned. It took a slap from Raph and a few good words from Leo, along with some encouragement from Mikey to get him back on track.

And back on track Donnie got. He guided you through, almost with more ease than he had with his brothers’ partners. For a moment he just switched off all emotions and focused on the task before him.

But as soon as your son was born, and was laying safely in your arms, Donnie broke under all of his suppressed emotions, letting out a few happy sobs as the two of you watched the little guy before you.

Michelangelo:

If there was one that wanted children, it was Mikey. He had been talking about it, long before his oldest brother and spouse figured out it was possible. So can you imagine his excitement, not just for his brother’s good news, but when he realized the two of you could actually make a family together? He was over the moon, talking about having a child as if he was asking if he could get a puppy.

But the world didn’t seem to think too fondly of you and Mikey’s wish to have children too. Days turned into weeks, and nothing happened. Then days turned to months, and you were still not showing any signs, all while Raph’s partner was heavily pregnant with their child. Months suddenly turned into years, and now Donnie was a father as well. Though you both were happy for them all, it was almost disheartening.

For a time you worried it might have been because of you. The fear that you might have been infertile creeping up in your head, until you finally asked Donnie to check you out. You even went to a human doctor to get checked. But both said the same thing - there was nothing wrong with you.

This left you and Mikey with one last option - maybe it was because of him. It had been known that human males were experiencing a lowering of sperm counts, along with a lower quality of said sperm, so who were to say it couldn’t happen for a mutant turtle as well?

And so, Mikey went to work immediately, trying to figure out what he could do. The conclusion from Donnie came much earlier than the two of you had expected, but his results were not surprising - a better diet, more training, no more alcohol on the weekends until you had a baby in you, less stressing video games and more vitamins.

Mikey took it all with no complaints. If he wanted a child he would have to work for it, and so he did. Even if he at times wanted to fall over when he couldn’t eat his favorite foods, play his favorite video games, or just do what he normally did as a creature of habit. But he wanted that child, so he could not just give up like that! No! And so he kept going.

And after a few weeks of non stop trying, you and Mikey finally saw the fruit of his labor, when your daily morning test out in the bathroom finally showed positive, altering the rest of the lair with your high pitch scream as you ran to Mikey, happy tears in your eyes as you showed him what the two of you had been waiting for, for so long.

Mikey was overjoyed, screaming louder than any of his brothers had done. Finally! After so long, he was finally going to become a father. He had worked so hard, but never once did he or you give up. And therefore, Mikey rightfully decided to celebrate the good news, with the first junk food he had gotten in a long while.

From that night, all up until you gave birth, Mikey slept, hugging your stomach, happy that it was finally happening for the two of you.

[jacevelaryonswife]

You Really Got Me | Part two | Professor!Michael Gavey x fem!student reader

summary: Suddenly, Michael felt vulnerable, exposed and fragile. Every year of love failure emerged drastically from a blocked corner of his heart. And he didn't like that.

a/n: sorry for the late update guys, I hope u all like it!

word count: 4k

tags: slow burn, power imbalance, slight angst

part one | ewanverse masterlist

Just this time.

It was a surprise for Michael when you showed interest in working with him. He hated being an idiot, he did, but he didn't expect a girl with your appearance to try so hard to work with him. He met many like you in his years of bachelor's degree; beautiful, cool, wealthy and socially successful thanks to daddy’s money. A privilege he never had. And he hated that. Hated it even more that most didn’t care enough about their own education while his life was molded in a continuous effort to obtain a small fraction of the success that his classmates had just because they were born into the right family.

The only thing he could count with was his mind. It's always been like that. And it was the reason for his hard-working social ascension.

Still, he knew that it was wrong to assume stereotypes at that point in life, but he couldn’t avoid such an association until you proved him to be more than deceived. Your performance was brilliant and your grades perfect, the complementary activities you performed were good, but they could be better. And he could do that; he could really elevate his experiences.

The only problem was you.

Well, him, actually.

He wasn’t good with women, he never was, not even with his ex-girlfriend.

He made improvements over the years, made good and loyal friends, although his love life had never fully geared. And that was a problem, because you didn’t present yourself as a love interest, even if his heart beat faster whenever you looked his way.

It was just loneliness, he tried to convince himself, and you were a gorgeous and smart girl. It was wrong, he knew, he was your bloody professor and that could never happen.

Michael truly made an effort not to get lost in those thoughts and not to abuse the power of his position. He didn't want to compromise the promising future in your relationship and that worked for a long time. Until that night.

The invitation to his flat was purely impulsive. The excuse he used? The biggest bullshit ever. And the most aggravating thing: you agreed with the idea. What the fuck was that?

He didn't believe it when you accepted the invitation. He didn't believe it when you entered his home. Not even when you leaned over to kiss him with fear and tenderness, or when he took off your clothes and touched your body, or when you were moaning below him.

Or when he couldn't stop thinking that night.

It's been three weeks since what happened, but his restless mind bombarded memories during all hours of the day.

Your voice, your face, your touch.

Kissing, touching, fucking.

Even in his dreams, you slept next to him since the rain did not allow your return home, waking up the other day with the most sensual shyness he has ever seen. It was necessary to activate all the locks on his body so that he wouldn’t have you again. He offered to take you home that morning, but there was nothing innocent in the request.

And then, there was the awkward feeling after the forbidden sex between co-workers. Obviously, as good adults none of you touched on the subject when you returned to lab, maintaining the false facade of normality, especially in front of Paul, his class of MMaths. Although only the necessary was said between the two of you, the exchanged glances revealed a bubbling intensity difficult to control, which consumed every active neuron in his brain.

He recognized the heat in your eyes, he believed it to be reciprocal, which made everything even more dangerous.

It can't happen again.

He tried to convince himself of that at least four times a day.

Another thing he often did again as soon as he got home was to masturbate. One, two, three times, like a horny teenager when watching bad porn. Thinking about you. Did you do the same when you remember of me? Did you want more? Because even though he refused to admit it, he wanted you.

═════════════════════

Michael was tired of correcting exams, exhausted, to be honest. His head and eyes hurt and a sudden need to stretch his legs made him get up from his office chair and go outside of the laboratory, which was separated by a door. However, something made him stop when he reached the handle.

"Oi, do you remember my friend James from physics? He asked if you're dating someone,” he heard Paul ask.

“Really?” You asked back.

"Yeah, he's really interested."

"Oh... I didn't expect that," you said, "well... I got involved with a person recently, it's complicated."

Fuck.

"I see, but if you decide to change your mind, let me know. I'm gonna have lunch, do you want something?”

“Nah, I'm good.”

“Okay, tell Michael I'll be back later.”

“Sure.”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

What the fuck he's supposed to do now?

At the same time that his body froze, the palms of his hands began to sweat and a brief panic filled his chest. How would he solve that problem? Did you expect something else to happen? Did you want it? Or was it just a polite refusal? His brain was working at a thousand per second while new unknowns emerged. He needed to talk to you, anything, but how? What was there to say about what happened? Cautiously, he opened the door in search of your presence and tried to stay calm when your eyes met his with a smile contained in your lips.

“Good afternoon professor, Paul has gone-” Fuck that.

"We need to talk," he interrupted you abruptly, nervously.

“... okay,” you murmured with big eyes, moving in the chair.

He took a deep breath, staring at you. "I heard what you said to Paul before he left. Was it about me?"

Your posture hardened under his eyes, your eyes widened with questioning. He got you. He was impassive to find out the truth, anxious, almost obsessed.

"Yes, it was," you replied with your eyes down.

Okay.

What next?

“... okay.” His mouth dried up and a large gray image formed in his mind. What should he say now?

Do you still think about what happened? About me?

"Do you want to say something else?" You broke the established uncomfortable silence, making him sigh and close his eyes. He wanted to touch you. Your face, your hair, your lips...

"We need to talk about what happened," he lowered his head in a low voice and less determined than before. Just stop tormenting my thoughts.

“I know, but I don't know what to say exactly,” your voice was firmer than before as you got up and to face it. “I don't regret what happened. I was attracted to you, you're handsome, intelligent, and I really wanted to do what I did.”

Really?

Did you really want to?

His reasoning froze. No woman had said such things before, never, not even his ex-girlfriend. And that caught him off guard. The appreciation in your words heated his heart and radiated through his cheeks like an embarrassed teenager. He didn't know how to deal with that feeling.

Suddenly, Michael felt vulnerable, exposed and fragile. Every year of love failure emerged drastically from a blocked corner of his heart.

And he didn't like that.

He didn't like to feel vulnerable, he didn't like to relive sensations that his brain couldn't contain.

“And I know can't happen again, you're my professor, you're new in here and that can fuck your job. I don't want that to happen,” you added.

"I know," he said after a while. "I don't regret it either," he touched the left side of your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb "Not a little."

He captured the moment your lips broke, remaining motionless in front of you, inhaling the charming and spring perfume you wore, feeling your hands lean on his chest while breathing deeper, closer and closer.

So close that your faces were almost together.

Who did he want to deceive? He wanted more. Your touch, your kiss, your scent.

And apparently you shared the same desire, since your lips collided against his fervently, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck. He reciprocated the kiss at the same intensity, holding your waist and back, moving his lips deliciously. Your fingers pushed the hair of the back of his head, making him sigh softly during the kiss, pulling you closer, needy for more of you.

Not giving time for the end, Michael started another kiss as he leaned your back against the bench, holding both sides of your face while exploring your mouth with his tongue. It was so good, so right, that he almost forgot about the inappropriate location. Almost. What made him break the kiss.

“Someone can come in at any moment,” he whispered against your lips, sighing again.

"What are we going to do about it?" You asked as you lean your face to his, eyes closing.

After that, he had solved that problem. Rationally? With all the implications in force, nothing should happen. Emotionally? He would go all the way, he wanted you.

But which choice would be appropriate?

And why did his heart stand out so much in that decision? Because suddenly, the consequences didn't matter. It was impulsive, he knows, but who cares?

"I don't want this to stop," he confessed, holding you close.

"Me neither," you whispered, looking directly into his eyes now.

When did it become so intimate?

═════════════════════

And then, sneaking into Michael Gavey's flat became your secret routine. Sometimes you would take an innocent ride with your professor when it was late. Sometimes he found you somewhere far from known presences. Sometimes you would go to his house on Saturday morning and come back on Sunday night. Despite the risk, you were addicted to his smell, his touch and his company (and having sex with him).

That spring afternoon, while you were talking about your hobbies, you told him about your culinary skills and the idea of making pizza for dinner was sudden and welcome. Obviously he didn't have any suitable refractory, but he offered to go to the utensils store that was two blocks away, leaving you with restless and palpable thoughts. What if someone found out? Discretion was essential among you, but affliction and fear were always lurking. He can't be fired because of me. I can't get involved with my advisor. Your heart burned with the present complication in the situation, making you fall dramatically on the couch. How easy was it to surrender to the impulses of the heart, even if improper and dangerous?

Fortunately Michael came back in time to avoid your nervous breakdown, finding you in your panties and one of his old T-shirts that said "that's how I roll".

Without you noticing, he spent a long time admiring you, still standing holding the bags with other useful utensils and a hard stick.

"Hey, sorry, I didn't hear you coming."

And then, you saw that look. That impulsive and almost animalistic side that he had under his methodical persona and that you loved.

You sucked him to the last drop when the bags fell to the floor, going to prepare the pizza dough excitedly afterwards, temporarily forgetting any previous fear of your relationship. As a good lover, Michael returned the favor and delighted himself between your thighs while the dough rested, pulling a white and hot orgasm from you.

"Did you like it?" He asked with a conscious smile, cleaning your sweet juices and leaning over to leave soft kisses on your forehead.

"Do you still ask?" You laughed breathlessly and wrapped yourself in his arms, resting your head against his chest, being packed by his hands afterwards.It was affectionate, intimate and calm.

“You looked great with my T-shirt, by the way,” he murmured against your hair, breathing your smell.

“It's quite nerdy, you know,” you mocked, tracing circles on his arm.

"We're nerds," he smiled and held you closer. “Two big fucking nerds.”

“Definitely.”

The following hours were lazy. The kitchen was pleasantly warm as you transferred the dough to the form while Michael separated the remaining ingredients. All Day and All The Night from The Kinks made you two hum and once in a while his hands circled your waist under protests so that he wouldn't burn the sauce. Although the softness of the situation pleasantly involved you, suddenly, a discharge of reality hit your heart and brain at the same time.

Cooking together, wearing his shirt, cuddling him. So intimate, so dangerous, for you and him both. Damn conscience that constantly reminded you of the fact. Or damn foolishness for letting that happen?

“You're okay?”

What?

“What? Oh- yeah, I - I’m just thinking a lot," you stuttered, lowering your head, trying not to leave loopholes in your behavior that could intrigue you.

“About what?” But when it comes to Michael Gavey, any detail was relevant.

But then, touches came from the door and freed you from making a lie that might not convince you. "I'll be right back," Michael murmured as he adjusted his glasses, leaving you alone with a glaring mind and a pizza to finish. Fortunately the manual work entertained most of your thoughts, although the sound of the door closing with Michael outside did not go unnoticed by you, much less the minutes he spent outside. Whatever was happening left you alert and tempted to spy, but as soon as the impulse was generated, a stunned and restless Michael entered the house.

“Something happened?” You looked at him worried, approaching.

His eyes were fixed on the ground below your feet, turbulent and apathetic expression, strong breathing and trembling hands.

"My ex-girlfriend showed up. She wanted to come in, talk..." he started, still looking down, "She left three years ago, just suddenly decided that didn't love me anymore and left." Oh God. "... I didn't expect that."

Jesus Christ.

Your hands shook his face immediately and pulled him for a hug. “I'm so sorry.”

He was reluctant to accept comfort before wrapping his arms in your body, taking a deep breath, cloistering you, supporting himself, falling down.

"I didn't expect her. I waited for a long time for her to regret and come back to me, but she changed her number, job and city. She just left and never looked back."

Unprepared, just like him, you tried your best to comfort him. "You didn't deserve that, Michael, I'm really sorry."

For a long, long time, you kept him in your arms, in silence and motionless, just holding him, protecting him, trimming him. You didn't immediately notice when he finally found your eyes, but when he did, he came across a hitherto unknown countenance where sadness, confusion and defeat mixed.

A version not yet seen, but so lost and sensitive that it made your heart hurt for him.

“Thank you,” he held your face with his hands keeping you close. Unfortunately, you knew that feeling very well. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Still part of his gaze remained turbulent, the man you admired so much seemed to have returned. “Just stay here.”

Who were you to deny that?

Even with the uncertainty about your relationship, you couldn't abandon him now, you couldn't complicate his head and heart, not after that, not when he needed you.

“Sure.”

The rest of the night was spent almost all in silence. You didn't want to address a painful subject for him, mainly because of his reaction after what happened. It was a complicated situation, especially when your own head was bubbling - however, the need to make him comfortable and know that he was well built strongly. "If you want to talk about what happened, I'll listen," you said during the break of a random episode of doctor who, snuggled up to him on the couch. For a long second, Michael remained silent, feeding your anxiety at the thought that he had gone too far.

"I relived what happened continuously for 745 days, spent a long time thinking about what happened, a really long time, until all the unknowns took the same answer. I'm tired of thinking or talking about her, but I appreciate your concern," he looked at you softly.

"Okay," you smiled and peaked your lips to his, diving back into the comfort of his chest.

═════════════════════

"So, how are things with Gavey?" Miranda asked casually, lying next to you in bed while texting someone.

You swallowed it deep, looking at the wall in front of you. Now, a fun fact: you had not yet told about your situation-ship with Michael.

You thought of several ways to introduce the subject, but no moment seemed right. It was very recent, very inappropriate, very risky. You knew she would never tell someone, much less judge, but a little fear accumulated in your mind. Obviously, the ideal moment would appear soon and you’d reveal your dirty secret. Until then, you would mislead her with an innocent lie.

“I'm fucking him.”

Or not.

“What?!” She almost jumped out of bed, turning completely to face you, her voice rising with each word. "Shut up! Are you serious?! When?! How?! I need all the details.”

And you told her. You told everything. From the first time to what happened to his ex. And of course she got pissed because you omitted the information for two months, but also understood your position.

“I can't fucking believe it, I really need daily updates about all this. I'm being serious.”

You laughed, but humor was the last thing felt.

"I don't know what to do, Miranda," you confessed. "I like Michael, I really do, I don’t know when it started, but what we are doing can generate negative consequences, especially for him, and I can't stop thinking about it. Every time I'm with him I think something can go wrong and it's driving me nuts."

“Oh honey...” She lamented, holding your hand.

"I know what I should do, rationally, but I really don't want to end things, I really like him. He's stabilized, handsome, funny in a very unique way and the sex? Fuck, it’s fucking good, and...” you looked down, “I just wish it wasn't so complicated.”

Taking it out of your chest brought great relief, but not even close to healing such anguish.

"Have you ever talked to him?"

"I wish I had said that night that his ex showed up, but the bitch fucked everything and I couldn't throw this bomb of sentimental confusion at him," you looked at her. "And I know myself, I have to talk to him before I get even more anxious and paranoid."

“Self-knowledge is a blessing,” she shook your hand with a comforting smile. "I’ll be here to support any decision you make."

“Thanks, honey.”

Venting with Miranda appeased part of your fears. That week you were determined to talk to Michael, even if the conclusion was bitter for both of you. It was painful to think about the end of the affair between you, but at the same time it would solve your emotional restlessness. Maybe it would be better this way, maybe all this would be nothing more than an adventure, an experience to be remembered. Maybe it would be better to extinguish the spark before it causes a fire.

Knowing each other very well, you knew that at any moment you would change your mind about your future, but you also knew what needed to be done. Therefore, when he invited you out on Friday night, you had already rehearsed how you would approach the subject.

But Michael decided to surprise you by taking you to dinner in an Italian restaurant far beyond your reality. He also anticipated your protest about the place, assuring that he would pay for everything.

“Oh gosh, no, you don't ne-“

“I insist, no need to worry.” And you knew well that there would be no discussion about it.

The cozy environment with partial lighting was not enough to mitigate the lack of belonging you felt as soon as you entered, but for your luck, everyone seemed too immersed in their worlds to perceive an intruder.

Away from other people, Michael and you sat face to face.

"That's quite a surprise," was the first thing you said when facing his beautiful blue eyes.

"This was the first restaurant I came to when I started making money, I don't know why, I just went ahead and decided to go in. I liked the feeling of being able to finally take the reins of my life, with my own money, and I want you to experience that too," he said, smiling softly at you.

"I'm here with your money," you remember him in a good mood.

"I know, but you'll have yours soon," he touched your hand on the table, watching the waiter politely approach the menu. "Choose what you want, don't care about the price."

And he mean that.

He asked for arancini balls for entry. Even though you’ve never tried it, what could go wrong with risotto balls stuffed with mozzarella cheese?

“So?” He asked excitedly.

"It's really good," you smiled, taking another little ball and leading it towards his mouth, making him laugh before putting everything in his mouth. “The other half was supposed to be mine, but I forgive you.”

"Let me fix that," he repeated the gesture, but you decided to surprise him by licking his finger while maintaining eye contact before eating the arancini. "Are you trying to make me hard in the middle of the restaurant?" He asked quietly, with a hint of fun.

"It's not my intention... yet."

As a main, you chose a classic lasagna and Michael a simple spaghetti bolognese, both accompanied by a Brunello di Montalcino. You weren't a big fan of wine, but you wanted to try the full Italian package.

It's time.

You just felt it.

You had to talk to him.

"So, I need to tell you something," you started, swallowing while you saw it partially hardened. "I... I'm afraid. I'm afraid that someone will find out about us, constantly, and it's driving me crazy. I like you, Michael, I really do, you're fucking intelligent, witty, handsome, but I don't want you to lose your job because of me, that would kill me and that's all I think lately."

He sighed hardly. Collecting his hands and looking down. "I know, this is fucking me too, I can't loose fucking my job.” Suddenly, he seemed nervous about your gaze, as if he was considering something. "I like you too and I don't want this to end, that's why I brought you here," he looked at you with tense eyes. “I think you deserve more than a quickie in my fucking office, you beautiful, smart, hardworking, and I want you to be my girlfriend. Officially.”

What?

“Officially?” You asked surprised, almost panting.

"Yes, I mean it, I want to make this right, I know we can't tell anyone until you graduate, but I want you to be my girlfriend, if you want to."

Whoa whoa. That's huge. Fucking huge. You needed to think about it. You spent weeks succumbing for fear of being caught with your professor, a relationship would certainly not alleviate the feeling, it would just get worse. You couldn't be impulsive and accept-

“Of course I fucking want to,” you almost yelled, holding his hand tightly. “But how we go-“

"The same way we're doing now."

Your chest squeezed with fear, making you look down before answering: "It's just... I don't want to harm you."

"Listen me, if something happens I'm guilty of wanting this situation, not you, it's my choice," he lightly shook your hand.

“I know I'm being paranoid,” you look at him, “But yes, Michael Gavey, I want to be your fucking girlfriend,” you smiled, feeling the famous butterflies in your stomach. "And we can always be more cautious."

He fixed his glasses and returned the smile, an adorable slight red glowing over his cheeks.

"We will.”

——————————————————————————

taglist: @venmondiese @re-per @anukulee @slytherincursebreaker @tulips2715 @rhaenyslay @angelinap09 @cupidelocke @aegonswife @fan-goddess @thenightmistress @deliaseastar @scarletbedlam @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @arcielee @eponaartemisa @donut-seam @marjorieisreading @aemonds-holy-milk @michaels-holy-malik

my beta reader: @moris-auri 💙

[bella-goths-wife]

Post sex conversation and assassinations on the side

Content: this is kind of just an introduction to the new au im creating basically

Warnings: mentions of sex, cigarettes, murder, drug overdose, terrible plot building, murder in exchange for money, drug use, alcohol use, gore

^first time making one of these so tell me if it’s trash

Butcher and Becca both let out a long sigh of relief as they enter an embrace and enjoy their post sex glow, laying together in the back of the truck that butcher had used to sneak out and meet her in.

He holds her lovingly as he gazed down at the woman he had thought to dead for so long, memorising the details of her face that had previously become blurry in his mind during her absence. Though, this lovers bliss he was temporarily experiencing was forever dulled by the knowledge that she’d have to return to her glorified cage and he would have to return to his hideout to avoid having her killed by homelander and his happy families delusions.

Butcher goes into his pocket and takes out his cigarettes before lighting one and taking a drag, becca looks at him with a disapproving gaze before taking it from his hand and puffing out the smoke in his face in an almost playful gesture. Butcher only smiles, falling into their old post sex routines already.

“I still can’t believe that you were here all this time” butcher says in a low, almost regretful tone “all by yourself”

“I wasn’t all alone” becca comments with an absent mind as she enjoys the heat of laying with her lover.

“Well yeah, you had the kid an’ all” butcher says with a slight scoff at the mention of homelanders spawn “but you can’t have much conversation with a bawling baby”

“No, there were more people than just Ryan and I” Becca explains calmly as she looks up at her lover

“There were?” Butcher says with a confused look “who?”

“Homelander has more than just Ryan” Becca explains “he had another kid”

“There’s more in there?” Butcher asks with a scoff as his head motions to the secluded neighbourhood that becca was being kept in

“Not anymore” Becca says with a shake of her head

“What happened?” Butcher asks with a slight bit of morbid curiosity

“I don’t know” Becca admits with a sigh “one day they were here, the next they’d gone and vought refused to explain”

“Who’s they?” Butcher asks curiously

“Never met the mom, she mostly stayed inside so I only saw her from her windows” Becca explains “but I met her kid, a sweet little girl who’d visit me most days”

“Homelanders kid being sweet?” Butcher asks with a scoff of disbelief

Becca elbows him in the side at the indirect insult to Ryan, butcher lets out a groan and shields himself from any future blows.

“Yes, she wasn’t like her dad, she didn’t even know who he was” becca says with a scoff “she was just a hyper little girl who wanted company, she was the only one I really talked too since Ryan was only a baby and her mother never left the house”

“How old was she?” Butcher asks curiously as he takes a drag from his cigarette

“She was eight when Ryan was born, she would have been around nineteen by now” Becca says as she does the math in her head

“Would’ve been?” Butcher picks up on the undertone of her words

“Last time I saw her she was thirteen, her and her mother just disappeared into thin air” becca says with a sigh “all their stuff gone and no trace of them ever existing”

“So you think vought killed them?” Butcher assumes with a scoff

“I don’t know, maybe?” Becca says with an unsure tone “I hope not”

“Why, she’s not your kid?” Butcher says with a confused expression “and she’s homelanders daughter”

“That doesn’t matter, she was just a kid” Becca states defensively before sighing “sometimes I just sit and wonder where she could be, if she’s safe and happy or if she’s buried somewhere here”

“Vought probably killed her” butcher states bluntly “that or they are milking her for whatever she had in a lab somewhere”

“Maybe” becca says with an unsure look “I just wonder where she is now”

———————————————————————-

“Your whiskey, sir” you offer the man with a smile as you place his drink on the coaster next to him

“Yeah, yeah” the man waves you off and takes a sip of his drink before turning back to his associates “Mike, you have to think about this, this is a big deal”

You keep your forced smile on as you return to your position next to the miniature bar set up in the hotels meeting room, holding your tongue and all the things you wanted to scream at this up his own ass executive.

“I’m hearing you joe, but it’s too much of a risk” the other executive states with a scoff

“But think of the money, we could profit if we just let homelander run off the script a bit” the man tries to reason

“And have him spout off a racist comment within the first five seconds of being on live TV? Yeah no thanks” the other executive shuts down the idea.

Their tedious conversation is interrupted suddenly by the loud blaring of the hotels fire alarm. They look at each other in shock briefly before spouting off complaints on the lack of professionalism.

The other executive tries to get up and unlock the door before quickly realising it’s locked from the inside.

“Give us your damn key” he demands with a scoff and an open palm, his irritation only growing as the hotels sprinkler system activates because of the fire alarm.

You simply shake your head and remain still as a statue next to the miniature bar. The executive practically growls as he begins charging towards you with an infuriated expression.

“Listen here, you little bitch” the executive yells out as he storms towards you “give me the fucking key, now-“

He’s interrupted by his own gurgling as his head slowly slips off of his shoulders and on to the floor and his body collapses. Your custom made metal bartending tray with razor sharp edges has embedded itself in the wall in the other side of the room on its journey through the executives throat.

The man lets out a scream as he looks at his friends now headless body before scrambling for the door and trying his hardest to yank it open.

“God, you people don’t know how to ask nicely for anything huh?” You say with a chuckle as you undo the bow tie and rolling up the sleeves of your bartending uniform, you scoff when you notice the man’s attempts to open the door “no point in doing that, even if you somehow managed to open it, you’d face two of my men who have been standing guard since we got in here”

The man stares at the door as he contemplates his options before he backs away from the door and arms himself with a cheese knife from the cheese board and stares at you. You almost chuckle at his sad attempts at self defence.

The man looks at you before arming himself with the knife and charging at you with the intent to kill you to escape.

You smirk as you make eye contact with the man while he’s charging at you, your pupils expanding to almost fill the entire eye.

The man stops suddenly and stands there in silence for a few tense seconds before dropping the knife and gripping his throat desperately, clawing at it like a feral cat.

Sweat accumulates on the man’s body as he feels it harder to breath and his body begins to fill with pains extending from his chest.

“They always go for the attack approach” you comment to yourself with a laugh as you go to the door to unlock it and let the other men enter

They give you a nod as they go to take the headless man’s body away, the man crawling desperately to them in a silent cry for help.

“They aren’t on your side, stupid” you say with a laugh as you crouch in front of him “they get the same payout as me, it’s unlikely they’ll give that up to help a fat slob like you”

The man claws at his chest before looking at the drink you handed him earlier. He then tries jamming his fat fingers down his throat

“What are you doing?” You ask confused before following his line of site and laughing “you think i poisoned you? Please, I’m not that sloppy”

You let out a laugh as you sit cross legged in front of the desperately dying man who looks at you with a mix of fear and confusion.

“Your overdosing” you say calmly as you grab his hair and lift up his head and look into his wild eyes “slowly and painfully”

The man lets out gurgled sounds of pain and confusion as he claws at your legs as if asking for mercy.

“Now we both know a good Christian man like yourself doesn’t do drugs, that’s the message you spread to the press anyway” you say with a smirk “so let me explain, I’m currently giving you the effects of cocaine which would usually be a pleasant experience but I’m making sure you get the effects of too much cocaine”

The men who had removed the body come back in and began to set the scene in the hotel meeting room, trashing things and laying out lines of coke on the table and around the room.

“I could have chosen a more pleasant drug to do this with, a less painful one” you explain with a chuckle “but you pissed off the wrong people and our client has asked that we do this as painfully and humiliating as possible”

You get up and you get a small bit of coke on your fingertips. You grip the man’s jaw until his mouth opens and you let out a huff of disgust as you put your fingers in his mouth and you spread the cocaine on his gums to leave physical residue for the post mortuary exam to uncover and the press to exploit and use.

“This isn’t gonna look good for you, a good Christian man found overdosed on coke” you say with a grin “what will the wife think?”

The man’s eyes well up with tears as he sobs out in pain. You laugh with a grin as you get up and use your heel to tip him on his back.

“Sugar” one of your friends call as he finishes dressing the room for the press pictures “we only have five minutes to leave before the supes get here, hurry up and finish it”

You sigh before giving a thumbs up to your two friends who were becoming increasingly more anxious as the time goes on, you think about making them experience the effects of a Xanax to get them to chill out but you decide against it with a shake of your head.

“Well then, guess our time has ended here” you say with a grin as you look down at the dying man “Edgar sends his regards, don’t piss off people with connections like he has if you want to stay alive next time”

You increase the dosage mentally as your eyes connect which pushes him over the edge and the life slowly drains from his eyes.

“Sugar” your friend yells again as you go over to where your tray had embedded itself in the wall “two minutes, hurry the fuck up”

“One sec” you say with a huff as you grab the tray and pull it free from the wall.

You pull the tray free with a groan before cleaning the blood from it. It shines as you hold it up to your face and you stare into your own eyes while you recite the chemical makeup for the cocaine and the dosage in your head, you watch as your pupils dilate to the large size again before feeling the familiar sensation of energisation fill your body pleasantly.

“Okay, ready” you say with a excited grin as you grab your friends hands and begin to run out the room “let’s get out of here”

You and your friends leave quickly and run free, leaving behind the slumped over dead body of the executive who had been making challenging decisions within vought.

You hoped Mr Edgar would be happy enough with your job to leave a hefty tip.

This is probably super stupid but I’ve had the idea for this kinda of power for ages and I just needed to write it down.

Let me know what you think :)

[katealpha]

Art by RandomGirl1265

While many of the underground facilities built by Vault-Tec have been uncovered over the two centuries that went by after the bombs fell over America. However, one of Los Angeles’ deepest secrets lie just underneath the decimated (and formerly named before the war) Chinese Theater.…

————-

Christina Kirby was just your average movie and TV actress in her late 20s. Born into money and practically raised by Hollywood, she had a promising career ahead of her. The Great War hadn’t affected her life all that much, though one day, she was brought to one of those vaults that were being created in case the worst happened. The plan was outlined to her as she was given a tour around the place. That when the bombs started to fall, she‘d be notified the second any bombs were detected headed towards the country, minutes before any nuclear sirens started going off, and she and other Hollywood names would live underground until the all clear.

It was a neat little place. It was furnished comfortably with many of the decorations based on the Hollywood esthetic. Movie posters, a walk of fame in the hallways, everything looking shiny. Her room was practically a smaller version of what she had in her mansion, but still comfortable and private.

When she was driven home after the tour, she was getting ready to walk through her front door, when she felt herself being grabbed from behind and a wet cloth pressed against her nose and mouth. Christina passed out within seconds, hardly able to struggle.….

————280 Years Later———-

A hydraulic hiss woke Christina up suddenly. Everything was blurry and misty as a glass door opened before her into a dim hallway. She felt horrible. Sweaty, sore, and most of all, severely bloated. As she stepped out of the cylindrical pod, she felt slow and heavy to boot. When her vision cleared, Christina looked down to see that her belly was disgustingly swollen. A gasp left her lips as her hands moved to feel herself. It didn’t take long for her to feel something moving inside of her. That she was pregnant. Very pregnant. Her heart sank and Christina imm began to waddle down one way, searching for anything that could help her, or give her answers.

As she made her way down, she passed by more of those pods like the one she was in. Inside she saw more women. All of them sporting baby bumps of various size. Some looking less than 9 months with one, some looking like they were carrying quadruplets. They all stood still, sleeping. Some were subconsciously caressing their bellies as they shifted and jostled with whatever lie within. Christina looked up and gasped again, seeing their faces and seeing their names on the tops of the pods. All of them were other actresses. Many having much more recognizable names than her. A List stars to lesser known actresses like herself. All Christina could do as she wandered through this place was wonder what was happening to them and why.

———-—

After finding a shower chamber and rinsing off, Christina managed to fit a blue and yellow jumpsuit on and began exploring, hoping to find food and water. She found water cans first, then some food stores with cereal and canned goods. Then, she found various terminals. All of them revealing more and more about what was really going on here.

Apparently, this was part of some horrendous experiment to preserve pre war Hollywood. By kidnapping nearly every prominent actress in the industry, stick them down in this lab, and inseminate them with the seed of multiple sports stars. To combine the genes of the most physically fit men in America with who many considered to be the most beautiful and influential women in entertainment. That by doing this, a new generation of potential entertainers could populate the wasteland. It all made Christina want to throw up, especially with the knowledge that the outside world was a nuclear hellhole, and that over two centuries had gone by, the pods preserving the actresses perfectly, as well as their unborn children.

After Christina gained ahold of her bearings, she ventured to an elevator and arrived in the living quarters upstairs. The place she remembered touring through what felt like yesterday. It was still in decent condition. The vault hadn't been discovered by the outside world, and everything was as it was left by the science staff. A trek up to the Overseer’s office revealed that not only was he dead, but killed by the scientists, who collectively agreed not to participate before their pregnancies reached full term. They left the vault together after over a decade, shutting it behind the. Only the robotic staff and the test subjects remained.

Now, Christina had a choice. One that had her stumped. From that terminal, she could override the pods, and release every woman in the lower levels. Let all those actresses wake up to the same horror Christina had. She couldn’t know what reactions would happen as a result, but she wouldn’t be alone, and the truth would prevail. However, she could also let them rest with their children still inside, and leave this place behind to start a new life. It was a tough choice…one that she hadn’t too much time to make, as one more question popped into her already overwhelmed mind.

When am I giving to give birth?..

[whxre-bxby]

I think it’s okay to take plots aslong as you don’t have everything word from word, I know the very popular one is the jake sullys daughters x miles quaritch

Okay, this is based on a previous request someone made for this scenario, so here you are :)

"Forbidden But Desired"

Recom Quaritch x f. Human Y/N

(Based off a fanfiction on AO3 called "Forbidden Fruit Tastes The Sweetest")

Masterlist

Summary: (Y/N is in Spider's position) Quarithc captures you and finds out you are the daughter of the man whose memories and DNA he has. Being the only person he feels any emotions too, Miles can't help but have you to himself.

Warnings: Smut, Angst, Non-con, somnophilia, indirect incest in a way?, penetration, unprotected sex, size-difference, age-gap, use of 'daddy',

Word Count: 4383

A/N: Sorry I'm so slow with uploading. I'll finish off the current requests, then I'll see if I even re-open them. Thank you for all the kind support though, it makes me really happy that so many people enjoy reading my work. Apology up ahead if this smut seems 'half-assed', I used to be more passionate about this

The room was cold. It was something you’d never seen or been in before. Even the lab back at home was not as cold and quiet as this. You could hear your own thudding heartbeat and every breath you took. The silence scared you. 

Yesterday, the worst thing to probably ever happen to you happened. You were taken from your family. The Sully’s. When the humans left Pandora, you were left behind because you were just a toddler. Born here, you stayed here. Now, of course, it had been many many years since your biological parents had died. You found out at the age of 15 that the man responsible for this was, Miles Quaritch, was your father. But you felt nothing towards him and while hearing that definitely disturbed you, you weren’t upset by his death. In fact, you felt relieved he was gone. And you were ready to spend the rest of your life proving that you are nothing like him. Now, a few years later, the information has settled in and you’ve managed to work past it psychologically. Just because you’re related by blood does not mean you have his intentions. In fact, being related to him makes you more passionate about protecting Pandora from others like him. But as one of the few humans left on this planet, that would be difficult. You’re a ‘big girl’ now, as Jake says when he talks about your responsibilities. He trusts you fully and raised you along with his kids. They are family to you. 

But a few months back, the Sky People were sighted again and we knew they were back. Hiding was currently our only option. Perhaps they had different intentions this time?

That thought died down the second a group of Avatars found you, Lo’ak, Tuk and Kiri in the forest. They must have come from the humans because of their clothes. They spoke English too. Their Na’vi was broken and hard to understand. 

While trying to escape, you fell. You can’t remember what happened but you have vague memories of being carried by the Avatar who seemed to be leading the group. Then you woke up here, all alone. Your toes felt cold and your spine sent a shiver through you as you retreated into a corner of the room. 

The Avatar from before had come into your room a few times already. He introduced himself and you refused to talk to him. You barely even looked at him. But when he told you his Avatar had the memories of the person you hated the most: Miles Quaritch; you couldn’t help but stare up at him in disbelief. Examining his features, you were quick to realise that he really did look like your so-called father. His presence intimidated you and you didn’t know how to feel about him. He didn’t seem like a threat to you. Your instincts weren’t ringing the alarm bells. You knew he wasn’t a good person, but there seemed to be some kind of string attaching the two of you. One that you both refused to acknowledge or act on. 

Quaritch would tell himself he’s being all nice to you because he’s trying to get information out of you through manipulation. You would tell yourself that you hate him and that he’s just as bad as the human version, but somehow, deep down you asked yourself whether he could be different. 

Miles was gentle with you, restraining himself from raising his voice when he questioned you and you would stay quiet. He started to bring you your food, hoping it would help you gain trust towards him. But he hated himself for trying to train you like some dog. Compared to him, you were a tiny creature. ‘A delicate little girl’ he thought, often finding himself admiring your features. Most of them were your mothers which seemed to only draw him more to you. 

He also seemed surprised that you had grown so much. It obviously made sense because he knew that many years had passed since the war, but you were hardly the little girl he had so few memories of. You were almost a fully grown woman and he wished he could be proud of himself for it, but he knows he had no part in your life until perhaps now. 

Today, things took a big turn. You lost track of time, not knowing whether you were sleeping through the days and crying during the nights or the other way around. It had been too long since you had seen the natural daylight or felt the fresh breeze of the wind. Being inside this awful room was so still and dead, it oftentimes made you feel ill. 

You sat curled up in the same corner once more. Miles had visited you during the morning, giving you your food and water. While you slowly ate the dry food, he tried to talk to you about things that weren’t related to his mission. He was asking about you. But not because he needed it for work, but because he cared. Miles realised he cared about you on Day 3 when Ardmore had suggested to just ‘get rid’ of you because you weren’t cooperating. Not even her tortuous methods worked on you. The thought of that happening made him panic inside and he managed to persuade her to give him more time. Though he wasn’t sure exactly how much time he was getting for you, he knew he would rather disobey her orders and ‘set you free’ in the forest instead of leaving you in her hands. 

He didn’t feel like your dad and he knew very well you didn’t accept being his daughter, but there was a deep emotional connection between the two of you that neither of you have with anyone else. Miles has been left to himself since he was brought back as an Avatar. Everything had constantly been strictly professional and work-related. 

You are the only personal thing he has in his life. The one person he feels he can let his guard down in front of. The only real person he actually seems to enjoy being around. Also, the only person he misses when he’s alone and not in your room. 

This is why he was spending his evening behind the mirrored glass, watching you softly cry in your little corner. You couldn’t see him because the glass only showed your reflection but he was there and he felt guilty for leaving you in such a state. You had been showered, cleaned and fed. But you weren’t happy and he could clearly see that. Miles knows he shouldn’t care as much as he does, but he can’t help himself. Something inside him longs for you and makes him want to protect you, even if it’s against his own people. He often feels like he needs to protect you from himself. After all, he’s the reason you ended up here. He knows he’s causing you your suffering, so he tries to think of ways to reduce it.

The large automatic door opens and he steps inside. You hold your breath, glancing up at him and holding back your tears. It annoys you when others see you at your most vulnerable. You don’t like feeling small, but oddly enough you don’t seem to care about that around Miles. His presence affects you differently. Almost as if you feel safe enough to cry and relax in his presence. Something your logical mind would clearly say no to. 

He gazes down at your small figure. His sad eyes take pity on you. 

“Come with me.” he says. The words were meant to be spoken as an order, but instead, his voice grew soft and became oddly comforting. 

You stand up, not thinking twice about his words. Anything to leave this room. He seems pleased with your sudden cooperation so he leads the way, making sure you’re close by. There’s no need to handcuff you or restrict you in any other way. He can catch you in seconds if you attempt to run away. You yourself know you don’t stand a chance. 

Quaritch leads you to a secluded hallway and uses a cyber key to unlock a door. The frame fits his size so you assume it’s made for Avatars. His large blue hand pushes the door open before his eyes glance back at you, silently telling you to go inside. 

You listen, slowly walking inside and looking around once he switches the light on. It’s his room.

“I’m not gonna let them treat you like some kind of animal.” he says, clearly seeming angered at the thought of that. 

“You did..” You reply, turning around. Your English isn’t at its best because you normally speak Na’vi. But you manage. 

He seems affected by your words and his eyes lower in disappointment. 

“Not anymore.” he says, promising that to you and to himself. 

“They don’t get te’ have you anymore.” 

His words confuse you. 

“But you do?” I ask, wondering what changed in his head to make him suddenly almost hide me with him. 

He doesn’t answer that. Miles doesn’t know how to. But he knows that if anyone gets you it's him. He has a reason for you to belong to him. You are emotionally connected and he’s the one that captured you. It only makes sense. But to tell you his thoughts won’t happen. You’re too pure to be told that you’re being kept by him. Words won’t tell you, but you’ll find out soon enough anyway. Perhaps through actions. 

His room was split in two. The bedroom and what you assumed to be a bathroom. He pointed you towards the bed. You haven’t seen anything like it before but by looking at it, you could tell it’s soft, so you obeyed him and lay down. 

He watched you settle down for a few moments, noting how innocent you were. Nothing about climbing into his bed seemed wrong or even slightly uncomfortable to you. He knows it’s because you live differently than he does, but it amuses him. You lay down so willingly, almost tricking him into wanting to lay down with you. 

Quaritch managed to push his thoughts away, leaving you alone in the room as the bathroom door shut behind him. You didn’t mind anything at this point. You were just happy to not be cold and uncomfortable anymore. 

Time seemed to fly by because of how comfortable you felt, wrapped in this large blanket.

You heard the same door from before creek open and Quaritch stepped back into the room. He changed clothes or rather removed some. But seeing him without a shirt on didn’t really faze you. After all, that’s how you’ve always seen all Na’vi. But Miles had much more muscle mass. You could probably stare at his torso all day if you had the chance. The feeling confuses you because you don’t do that, ever.

He walks up to the side of the bed, peering down at you once more. The sight comforts his cold heart. You look happy which means he’s managed to help you in a way. 

You’re on the brink of falling asleep when you feel the mattress dip next to you as Quaritch lays himself down. The blanket is all around you which makes him chuckle. 

“You can’t have it all, you gotta share, princess.” he grins, looking over to you. You open your eyes and look at him, not understanding what he means. So to help you out, he pulls the blanket from you which makes you frown. An expression that amuses him further. 

“No.” you whine, trying to grab it back. 

“Don’t worry, it’s big enough for both of us, kid.” he chuckles lowly. The blanket is now on him but you’re too far away for it to reach you. 

“I want it back.” you plead, watching his eyes study you while he grins. Instead of responding with words, he lifts up a corner of the blanket and smirks at you, as if he were saying that you must lay there to get it. 

You stay still for a few moments. Your mind is loading. But Quaritch isn’t feeling that patient today. It’s his room, his rules, so he reaches for you and pulls your right against him so that your back is pressed against his chest. 

“What are you-” 

“Sleepin’ in my bed comes with terms and conditions, sweet’eart.” he replies in his gruff, sleepy voice. 

His large, heavy hands wrap around you, making it impossible for you to leave. But oddly, you don’t want to. His body warmth comforts you and you start to relax your tensed body.

Your eyes grow heavy and before you know it, you’re asleep. 

Miles feels your soft breath fan against his arm and he feels like he’s cradling a kitten. You’re so small and beautiful to him, he knows he must be careful having you around him. 

Being so close to you makes him realise how good you smell and how soft your skin and hair are. You just look so inviting, he’s having a hard time falling asleep. Instead, his heartbeat is starting to pick up speed, involuntarily riling him up. In the back of his head, he doesn’t feel wrong for handling you like this. Taking advantage of your innocence doesn’t seem that wrong to him right now. He would never hurt you, but he’s done worse than this, so it doesn’t seem to faze him. Especially when the slowly building arousal is starting to badly influence his common sense. 

You’re so close to him and you’re his. He has a right to be with you. You belong to him. Why shouldn’t he be able to explore and use what’s his?

His thoughts go wild as he starts to hesitantly imagine all the things he could do to you. You’re just laying there, so relaxed and available for him, he can’t just say no. He slowly unwraps his hands from around you, keeping his eyes trained on your body to make sure you’re still asleep. 

When you don’t move, he tells the guilty part of him that you want this. Even though he knows he’s fully taking advantage of your size and innocence, he’s too worked up to let this go. His shorts feel tight around him and his growing erection, but he doesn’t focus on that just yet. He wants to see you for you before he focuses on himself. 

They didn’t change you out of your Na’vi clothes, so most of your skin is exposed to Miles anyway. His hands move your hair to the side, exposing your back and the small strings keeping your chest piece attached. 

His heart is now racing. He can’t believe what he’s doing but he won’t stop. Not with you looking so pretty in his bed.

Quaritch props himself up on one elbow, while his free hand gently traces your body, running from your shoulder, along your side and to your hips.

He leans forward, massaging the soft flesh of your hip before pressing his lips against your warm skin. His eyes close and he inhales deeply, not being able to get enough of the way you smell. Then, Miles pulls away, kissing you up to your shoulder blade. You’re so soft he feels the urge to just grab you and sink his teeth into your flesh but luckily for you, he doesn’t. Knowing you will probably shy away if you’re awake, Miles decides to explore you further by himself so that he can take his time toying with you instead of having to hold you down and keep you quiet. 

Carefully, he slides the blanket off the both of you and sits up to properly look at you. He starts to fumble with the strings of your top, untying them and watching them loosely drape around your back. Miles’ large hand then finds your shoulder and he gently pulls you to him and turns you onto your back. He can’t wait much longer so he takes one string in between his fingertips and lifts your chest piece up, gently pulling it from your calmy sleeping body. 

He draws a deep breath to stay composed while his darkened eyes drink in your bare chest. Such a pretty young thing you are, fully on display to him and only him. 

He wants to devour you and drag his tongue and lips over every inch of your body, but he can’t risk waking you up just yet. He needs to see more before he can start touching you. 

Miles slowly moves onto his knees, sitting by your legs. You’re wearing a loincloth like all other Na’vi. Something he hated before, not liking how they imprinted their culture on you. But now, he was almost thankful you weren’t covered in human clothes from head to toe. 

He takes the material covering your crotch at the front and lifts it up to reveal that you aren’t actually bare underneath. You’re wearing something similar to panties except out of their woven fabric. Miles ignores the small beads and pattern of your loincloth and just hooks his fingertips under the sides of your waistband and slowly pulls it down your legs, teasing himself. 

Once he lays eyes on your bare cunt Miles groans, struggling to stick to his plan of just looking. He knows now that he won’t be able to just admire you. He needs you for himself. 

God, you’re just so beautiful he can’t help himself. His large hands gently wrap around your legs, parting them to fully expose your pussy to his predatory eyes. What a pretty little thing you’ve grown to be. 

You look so tasteful, Miles has to touch you. His fingers trace an outline around your pussy, watching a small shiver overcome your body in your sleep.

‘So sensitive’ he thinks, wondering whether you’ve ever done anything sexual with someone before. But judging by the way your body seems to eagerly be responding to his smallest touches, he concludes that you really are as innocent as he thought. It also means he needs to approach this with a gentle hand, not to scare or hurt you. 

His fingertip slips between your folds, gently massaging you while watching your reactions. You’re still asleep but your breathing seems to occasionally change patterns. Your warmth has Miles feeling excited to feel it around him, whether that will even end up working. He had to stretch you out for him first, knowing he could hurt you if he didn’t.

His fingertip continues to gently flick over your clit, rubbing you along your slit until he feels the flesh give in and he reaches your hole. Slowly, Miles starts to push his finger into you and a deep growl rumbles through his chest when he feels the slick start to form inside you. But you’re still so tight, which he loves but he knows he must relax your muscles to make this pleasurable for you. You're his little girl after all, he can’t have you crying in pain underneath him. 

It’s his job to care of you.

He starts to work you open for him, gently pushing two fingers into you now. Miles lowers his head closer to you, noticing that your slick has started to seep out of your tiny hole. His fingers have spread it all over your pussy until it is now glistening and shiny, making his mouth water. He must taste you, to confirm you’re really his. His mouth has to explore and experience his girl. 

He uses his tongue to pleasure you and take away the slightly uncomfortable feeling his fingers may be creating inside you. Miles’ eyes stay trained on your face as he peers up at you. You’re still asleep which amazes him. 

Once your pussy has managed to engulf his third fingers, Miles can’t wait anymore. That’ll do. He keeps your legs resting open for him while he pulls his loose pants down to his mid-thigh, finally freeing his aching erection. He knows he won’t fit all of him into you. You’re too delicate and small, but anything will do for him at this point. 

He wants to guide you through this experience because he knows you have no idea about these kinds of things. 

Seeing himself as your closest person, he feels he has the right to be your first. To take away the virginity you were born with, and lead you through this step of becoming a woman. To ‘break you in’. 

He reaches down, wrapping his hand around his shaft before pressing his tip against your heat. Miles hears you sigh in your sleep and your head turns to the other side, but your eyes stay closed.

He starts to rub himself against you, covering himself in your sweet wetness while letting his precum drizzle down onto your pussy. A shiver of excitement runs up his spine when he imagines how he’ll fill you up with his cum and permanently mark you as his. So that when he is finished with you, you’ll still be stained with his scent, making everyone who ever crosses you know that he claimed you. 

With that thought, he starts to slowly apply pressure to your hole, gently pressing his tip against it until he feels it give way and start to let him in. Once his tip is almost in, he lets go of himself and positions himself above you. Your eyebrows are furrowed and your breathing has quickened, but you don’t seem to be awake just yet, so he continues to push himself into you. 

He sharply inhales when he feels how tightly you’re squeezing him, but he can’t stop. Fuck it feels too good. His hips involuntarily buck forwards and he forces himself inside you until his tip hits your cervix. His eyes are closed in bliss, cherishing the feeling of being so close to you. 

A small whimper makes Miles open his eyes and he meets your confused eyes, slowly waking up. You rub your eye, glancing around the room before looking up at him. He can see that you have no idea what is happening yet, so he slowly withdraws his throbbing length from inside you before pushing back inside. You clench your jaw, sucking in a pained breath and gasping.

“What’s happening?” You ask, trying to sit up but Quaritch restricts you from doing so by hovering over you. He dips his head down to your neck, placing soft kisses along your warm skin. 

“Don’t worry, baby. You’re in good hands.” He whispers, starting to rhythmically move his hips against yours. Your mouth is parted in surprise. You feel him deep inside you and it‘s so unexpected, you don‘t know how to react. 

“Miles-“ you whisper in a shaky voice, not sure whether you should ask him what he’s doing, whether to stop or why you weirdly don’t hate it. 

“Shh, let me take care of you.” He whispers, nipping at your neck with his fangs while he continues to gently thrust in and out of you. 

“Daddy’s little girl” he hums into your ear. “Be good and stay still for me.”

Your small hands go up to grip his shoulders and you give him an experimental push but Miles won’t budge even a bit. So instead, you hold on to him, but you’re not sure why. 

One of his hands snakes down between your bodies and he starts to toy with your clit again, watching your confusion and pleasure mix. The stretch of him hurt you but somehow, that made it feel nice. 

“How’s that feel, sweet’eart?” He asks, continuing to massage you with his rough hands. 

Your innocent eyes find him while you try to think of an answer. 

“Good…” you whisper, wondering whether he might stop now but Miles doesn’t. 

“Mhm,” he hums, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “Do you know what I’m doin’?” He asks and his voice sounds gruff. 

You shake your head ‘no’. 

“Makin’ you mine.” 

His words make you feel more excited and Miles notices this when your pussy clenches around him. A smirk appears on his face as he continues to drive himself into you. He realises your tight muscles are finally easing around him so he quickens his pace, seeming happy that your body has accepted him inside you. 

“M’ gonna fill you up, baby.” He grunts, starting to slowly lose control of his steady pace. Your stomach feels fuzzy and it makes you spread your legs further, hoping it will make the good feeling stay. It does. Miles instantly receives your invitation and starts to rut himself into you

You hum in pleasure, not feeling too bad about this. Jake was a father to you. You barely knew this man, so it didn’t seem that wrong to you. Miles however knew some part of this was wrong, but he wasn’t related to you biologically, only through memories. 

His fingers rub rough circles over your clit and you gasp before the bubble inside you bursts. Your body trembles and your muscles spasming around Miles help him over the edge and into bliss. His biceps and core muscles flex as he shoots his cum inside you, thrusting a few more times to make sure he’s stuffed you full with it as much as possible. 

Once he starts to calm down, Miles takes a little pity on your small figure. He knows he took advantage of you, but he won’t dwell on it too much now. Instead, he lays himself down next to you, rotating your body with him so that you're both lying against each other and on your sides like before. He keeps himself halfway inside you to prevent his cum from dripping out of you. You need to stay full until morning. Then at least, he can replace the last load with a fresh one. Fill you up until your womb is full of him and until you can’t walk anymore. Maybe he’ll do this to you every night, just to make sure it’s clear to you and to Jake if he meets you again, that you belong to Quaritch and no one else.

Tag List: @ken-dala @ikranwings @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @numarusworld @number1gal @jatwow

[amethystfairy1]

Why does Tango wear a crop top? 🤔

Let's find out...

10 Years Ago 

Under-City Labs

“Little spark!” 

“What!? What!?” Tango about toppled from the step-ladder he was sitting on, in order to reach up and tinker with the guts of a massive sorting machine he’d designed for identifying resources from deliveries and then transporting them to the lower levels. 

He spun where he sat to swing his boots over the edge of the step-ladder and peered down. 

Doc was standing there with a supremely disappointed expression on his face. Tango immediately filed back through all of his doing within the past month trying to figure out what he’d messed up this time. 

The creeper mutant tapped one loafer a few times. 

Tango matched ruby red eyes with him, trying to keep any nervousness off his face.

“Y-Yeah? What can I do for ya, Director?”

“Do not call me that.”

“Doc. What can do for ya, Doc?”  

Doc’s natural eye narrowed.

“What are you wearing?”

Tango glanced down at his outfit. Currently he was wearing a redstone streaked old tee shirt he’d long since torn the sleeves off of. It was oversized, to be honest he might’ve stolen it off of Jimmy in high school, he didn’t really remember. His claws were on full display, caked with grime considering he put them use helping him work with the finer wiring.

Instead of using. Y’know. Pliers or something. 

“W-Work clothes? Why?”

“Those are not work clothes. Work clothes are gloves and long sleeves, Tango.” Doc replied with the tone of a mother hen, and the little blaze-born whined in the back of his throat.

“But it’s sooooo hot in here! I’m already on fire!” 

“So you are. That does not mean you cannot get burnt or cut working with these machines.”

“I’m careful…” Tango began but Doc raised his eyebrow at him with a firmly set jaw and folded his arms, augmentation over green skin. 

“…ish.” 

“Gloves and long sleeves.”

“But Doc! I also use these for working with wiring, it’s easier than pliers!” 

Tango made grabby hands down from the step ladder at Doc, clicking the sharpened tips of his claws together.

Doc’s augmented eye adjusted, red glow flickering. He tilted his head and heaved a ragged sigh, raking back longish dark brown hair with his metal hand and planting his other hand on his hip. 

“I can see that, and for small projects that is fine, but not when you’re working in mechanical here.” 

“But it’s so hot.”

“Then take breaks!” 

“I don’t wanna take breaks!”

“Tango!” Doc’s tone dropped one octave from his already deep voice, and Tango flinched. His flares momentarily went out completely before sputtering to life again. He’d been practically raised by this man, and now that he’d started at the labs earlier this year he’d been trying to learn the balancing act of their workplace dynamic.

Which, as it turned out, wasn’t all that different from their dynamic anywhere else. Doc was allergic to authority and despised formality, for the labs was more like a big conglomeration of the under-city’s best and brightest just kind of…figuring things out. There was a loose hierarchical structure, but that was more just so the assignment of workflow would be more comprehensible and less completely and utter chaos. 

So Tango huffed and spun back toward the machine he was tinkering with, shoving his hands up into the wiring, tongue poking out and worrying between his sharp teeth as he shouted back in reply.

“Fine, fine, fine, I hear ya! Gloves and long sleeves from tomorrow on out, you got it!”

The Next Day.

“Tango!”  

Tango fumbled the comparator he was holding and dropped it to the ground with a clatter he jumped so hard when that booming voice shouted over his workshop area within the mechanical branch of the labs. 

“Why have you gotta scare me like that!?” The blaze-born demanded as he turned to see Doc picking his way around the chaos of Tango’s workshop area. It wasn’t exactly organized, but it was organized enough for him, and sure, the last time Pearl had visited him during work hours she’d about had a conniption, but whatever. This was how he worked best. 

“What is that!?” Doc gestured at Tango pointedly. 

“What? You said gloves and long sleeves, so I’m wearing gloves and long sleeves!” Tango was barely able to hold back the mischievous grin that tried to clamber upon his face.

Doc looked him up and down twice.

“You’re kidding me.”

“Gloves and long sleeves. See?” Tango set the comparator he’d been carrying aside and then threw his arms out and made jazz hands. His flares crackles and his blaze-rods danced and twirled to mirror his amusement at Doc’s rather stunned expression.

Tango had traded the old cut-off tee for a tight, bright red cropped long sleeve that cut just beneath his pecs, leaving the entirety of his toned stomach exposed down to his belt, which held several tools as well as a carabiner clip for his gloves. His brown work gloves were new, Doc had gotten them for him as apart of his toolkit for starting work in the mechanical sector of the labs full-time after having helped out more and more since his mid-teens. They still felt a bit stiff, but Tango supposed they’d break in the more he wore them.

Doc planted his head into his hands and groaned. 

“Little spark, you’re going to drive me insane, aren’t you?”

“Pleased to be working with you too!” 

Tango saluted, then spun on his heel to return to his work, his tail coiling and twisting cheerfully behind him, and Doc rolled his eyes, but didn’t fight him anymore on it. 

...

And there you have it! That's why Tango wears a crop top! Because he's a little shit who subscribes to the idea of malicious compliance!

This was a bit short for my taste to post on A03 with the entire series proper, but I felt like just writing it anyway, and I figured would be fun to have them over here! I'll be tagging little stuff like this as 'ttsbc ficlets' and if you have any other small seeming innocuous questions about TTSBC or Traveling Thieves that you think would be fun to see answered in this format, please do send me an ask! I think it'll be fun and as some of y'all who have followed me for awhile may know, I struggle with writing short, so this seems like it'll be good practice!

Hope you liked it! 💖

[1for5]

yes im changing

paige bueckers x reader

(paige x uconn psychology student!reader)

synopsis: with y/n being in a new environment, still facing rejection, how can she bounce back?

masterlist

chapter 1

“we regret to inform you that..” y/n’s eyes start to tear up as she reads her rejection letter from her dream school: stanford university. she plans to take psychology, and stanford is a perfect university for her growth. the dream started ever since she was born, as her father’s alma mater was stanford. y/n’s father died early, and she wanted to make him proud.

“no no no no no” y/n says in disbelief. how was she not accepted? a perfect gpa, and a 1500+ on her sat. she had good extracurriculars as well, being in the lab 24/7. her essay was proofread a thousand times as well.

the girl cried, rushing to her mom for comfort. “mom, i have bad news” she said. “oh honey, what is it?” the mom replied.

“i didn’t get into stanford, im so sorry” y/n teared up again, hugging her mom. “its okay, it just means that God has better plans for you in another schoool. im sure your dad is still so proud of you” y/n’s mom comforted her.

after a night full of cries, y/n looked at her options. she is always one to plan immediately. but this one will take her awhile, as college is well, college. she opened her laptop, with the screen showing her notes app stating:

stanford: rejected

upenn: waitlisted

lsu: accepted

iowa: accepted

sdsu: accepted

ucla: waitlisted
…

then a notification popped: uconn application results are out. her heart started pumping, she applied to uconn as it was near, and it was her mother’s alma mater.

she opened the site, with the screen saying:

CONGRATULATIONS!

y/n smiled with joy, and the smiled widened as the school is offering her a scholarship.

after a month, she weighed her options, and went to the different schools she was accepted in for a tour. she loved sdsu’s campus, and loved the school spirit of iowa. but she loved uconn the most. a calm campus, and a great school spirit as well.

she decided to go to uconn and major in psychology. a good school, near home, and a scholarship. it was her best option. but that isnt her end plan. she plans on reaching high during her freshman year, and transfer to stanford for sophomore year.

fast forward to her first day, which was full of orientations. during lunch, she bumped into another girl. they both said their “sorry”s and realized that they were both freshmans in psychology. the girl’s name was peyton, who accompanied y/n for the rest of the day. y/n knew that peyton will be a good friend.

as they go back to their dorms, they passed the building of the basketball court. “oh my goddd! do you know the women’s basketball team? i love them! i have a crush on one player” peyton mentioned. y/n wasn’t really fond of basketball. “no, not really..” y/n replied.


as they walk pass, the basketball team goes out of the building, still playing with a basketball. they played with the basketball a little too hard.. as the ball hit y/n’s head, making her fall down.

y/n was outrageous, who plays basketball just around? she got up and looked behind who threw the ball. she saw 5 people, 5 tall people, and got eye contact with a blonde who she assumed threw the ball.

“excuse me?”

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Hail Black Sheep

“Mind if I bum a cigarette?” A voice asked behind Hood, startling him so bad he nearly fell off the edge of the roof where he was sitting, taking a little break from patrol. He had made sure there was no one up here and no way to get up here before taking off his helmet, and yet when he turned around there was another man on the roof. Dark hair and sunken blue eyes that reflected an odd unnatural green when the light hit them wrong.

Jason’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized the stranger. He had appeared in Gotham months ago and had immediately pinged the bat’s radar as a potential threat. There was something very wrong with the young man and none of them could figure out what it was, any attempts to find out more had gone nowhere because attempts to follow him never worked! More then that it seemed like any mention of him had been erased from the record, they knew he went by Danny and that was all. And here he was standing on an inaccessible roof right in front of Jason.

“Sure,” Jason said as casually as he could manage, shoulders tense and ready to fight if he needed to. He didn’t know why Danny had sought him out but this was the best chance to learn… well, anything about him that they’d had. He held his smoke between his lips as he shook another out of the pack and held it out to Danny.

The other man smiled, revealing canines that were a little to long and pointed to seem entirely human, not long enough to be vampiric though. He came over and sat down on the edge of the roof as well, out of arms reach but close enough he could reach out and take the smoke, Jason was glad he wasn’t any closer. Danny seemed to be making an effort not to seem threatening as he let Jason hand him a lighter as well, lighting up before passing it back.

“Thanks,” Danny said before taking a drag and exhaling slowly. “I hope you don’t mind I messed with your coms, they’ll work again just fine once I leave but I just wanted to talk in private.”

“What do you want?” Jason asked, tense beyond belief, his hand twitching towards his gun, Danny didn’t seem worried which made him all the more nervous.

“Just to talk. I know you and the Bats have been following me.” Danny said with a casual shrug, leaning back dangerously over the ledge.

“And yet we never manage to actually track you,” Jason said a little accusingly.

“No one sees me if I don’t want to be seen,” Danny told him flashing a cheeky grin. “I don’t exist~”

“Yet here you are,” Jason argued and Danny shrugged again.

“Here I am,” He agreed taking another drag, slow and deep, exhaling just the same to create a break in the conversation before he glanced over at Jason. “That looks like a nasty story,” He commented, touching his own cheek where Jason knew the scar of a J still sat on his own. He snarled wordlessly and Danny held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. “I won’t ask, I have some nasty stories too,” He murmured rolling up his sleeve to show Jason Lichtenberg scarring shooting up along his arm.

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you, I guess. You and I have a lot in common really, and you don’t follow the laws when you don’t agree with them, that too,” He chuckled.

“You know that’s why we’ve been following you right? You’re suspicious as fuck,” Jason said accusingly.

“I know,” Danny said with a little sigh. “Have you found anything at all?” Jason scowled and looked down, not wanting to admit that they really hadn’t. Danny just nodded. “You could look up the GIW to find out, not about me, but about what happened to me. Who declared me dead and erased me from the world so they could smuggle me away into a lab and figure out how to use me. I won’t let any of the bats follow me because if you know where I am then others might be able to find out. And I can’t promise they won’t add me to the wanted database again and they’d take that at face value.

“Interdimensional terrorist sounds pretty damn bad huh? Nevermind that I was fucking born in this world and it was scientists they hired that made me this way.” Danny grumbled, looking up at the smog covered sky.

“What way?” Jason asked, because everything Danny had just said was concerning as fuck but that was what he wanted to follow up on.

“Don’t worry about it,” Danny chuckled. “I’m not going to cause any trouble. I was a hero for a couple years as a teenager, before it got so dangerous with people hunting me, and now I’m retired as fuck, the only person I can afford to protect anymore is myself. But I want you to know that too, I’ll defend myself if I have to. If any of you or the GIW come for me again I’m not going to go quietly and I can do a lot of damage when I have to.”

“You know making threats does not help me believe that you aren’t going to cause trouble,” Jason said bitterly and Danny at least had the decency to look sheepish.

“I know, I’m sorry. I genuinely don’t want to cause any trouble for you, us black-sheep should stick together right? I’ve noticed that about you, all the folks the other bats and birds tend to overlook, you look out for them. The whores and the addicts and the street-rats. I like that, I was hoping you might look out for me too, I’ve been mostly haunting your area recently anyway. I could look out for you too? No one sees me if I don’t want to be seen and I can get into anywhere. I’ll keep an eye on things, if I find anything that you should know I’ll come tell you.”

“You’re offering to spy on me as a bonus?” Jason asked incredulously and Danny winced.

“Not on you, for you,” He promised quickly. “I’ll stay out of your business and I really won’t be any trouble! I’ll just keep an ear out and tell you if I hear anything in the way of plotting or people breaking your rules. Like I said, I like how you run things here, I’d like to help.”

Jason was quiet as he thought about that, Danny shifting nervously on the wall next to him as Jason finished his smoke and put out the butt. “Alright, you can stay in my territory, the bats don’t come here often. But I want some sort of accountability from you, at least regular check ins, once a week here and a way to contact you.”

Danny hesitated, biting his lip for a moment before he nodded. “Alright, Saturday night at midnight? I won’t come if I see anyone else around. I don’t have a phone or anything.”

“I’ll get you a burner next Saturday but this is basically a trial period. I know that the crap cops and the other bats say about ‘if you have nothing to hide’ is bullshit, you’re allowed to want privacy especially if you’ve been targeted. But you’re still suspicious as fuck and you’d better be telling the truth about not making trouble on my turf.” Jason said pointing an accusing finger at Danny before putting his helmet back on.

Danny nodded eagerly, looking relieved, tired, and a bit sickly. It wasn’t hard to believe the guy had had a hard life, if that hadn’t made him violent he was a better man then Jason. “You got it! No problems here, cross my heart!” Danny assured, actually making the motion which made Jason chuckle a little.

“Alright, see you Saturday,” He said before pushing off the edge of the roof, using his grappling gun to swing to the next building. When he turned around to look back at the building he’d just left Danny was already gone.

“O are you there?” He asked, tapping at his com to see if it was working again.

“Ya I am, what happened there?” She asked through the voice modulator. “Did you turn off you coms?”

“No, you’re not going to believe this,” Jason chuckled, but he wasn’t going to tell Oracle everything Danny had shared, wanting to meet Danny halfway with trust. Just enough to get her looking into the GIW, maybe if they could get whatever that was off Danny’s back he’d be willing to come out of the shadows and stop acting so fucking shady!